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The Price a Father Was Willing to Pay for His Son’s “Happy Future”

That year, the winter came early and hit hard. By the beginning of November, snow was already knee-deep, and the temperatures had plunged into the single digits. Alex lay in his room that morning, daydreaming.

Any second now, his mom would walk in and say that school was canceled because of the weather. He heard her footsteps.

“Sweetheart,” she whispered softly, “time to get ready for school. It’s almost eight, you’ll be late.”

“Mom!” Alex whined, trying to think of an excuse. “My throat kind of hurts.”

His mother sat on the edge of the bed, placed her palm on his forehead, then peered into his throat.

“Nice try,” she said with a faint smile.

“Ugh,” Alex grumbled. “I don’t want to go today. We have that math test Mrs. Davison was talking about.”

“Oh, honey.” She hugged him and rubbed his back. “You’re only in fifth grade. How many more years of math do you have left? You have to study, or you’ll end up like me, cleaning offices.”

“Do guys even do that?”

“Well, maybe not cleaning offices, but working in a warehouse. Not much better. Come on, get dressed. I made you breakfast, and your blue shirt is ironed and waiting for you.”

“I’m just going to lie down for a minute. I don’t feel so good.”

His mom kissed the top of his head and went into the living room to rest on the sofa. Alex sighed and got up. If he had to, he had to. He couldn’t stand to disappoint his mom; he loved her too much. As he got ready, Eleanor watched him. When he called out from the hallway, “Mom, I’m leaving!” she closed her eyes. She needed a moment of peace and quiet.

Ellie was in her first year of community college when she met the love of her life. Michael was older, established, and worked for a large logistics company. She wasn’t sure what he did, exactly, but he drove a nice car. Once a week, he’d pick her up and take her to his family’s lake house—a beautiful two-story cabin with a small pool in a perfectly manicured yard.

To Ellie, who had grown up in a small two-bedroom apartment, it felt like a castle. Michael told her about his own place, a two-level condo with modern renovations. She imagined herself moving in as its mistress one day, but he never took her there.

One afternoon at the lake house, a tall, thin blonde with dramatic makeup burst in. Seeing Michael by the fireplace with his arm around a young woman, she shook with rage.

“So this is your ‘working late’!” she shrieked. “Bringing your little flings to my parents’ house! Have you no shame?”

Michael went pale. His hands started to tremble.

“Julia, honey, it’s not what it looks like. She’s just a friend…”

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