She was turning thirteen, and once again, I couldn’t be there. I sent a gift instead — a pale blue dress with matching shoes. I wrapped it carefully, hoping she’d feel beautiful and know it came from me.
I met Joel, her father, at a café and handed him the box. I begged for just one day with her, but he refused. “You did this,” he said coldly, reminding me of past mistakes. He left without looking back.
Later, I found a letter on my porch addressed simply: To Mommy. My daughter had written in shaky handwriting, asking why I had forgotten her. She didn’t know I had been sending gifts all along. Joel had hidden the truth.
Her words broke me, but they also gave me strength. I searched online and found the date of her school dance showcase. Without thinking, I went. I slipped into the back of the auditorium just as she appeared on stage.
She was wearing the dress. My heart soared — until she ran into the arms of Joel’s new wife after the performance, calling her “Mom.” I stepped forward, desperate, and told Emily the truth: every gift, every letter had been from me.
In front of the crowd, Joel’s lies unraveled. A lawyer offered help, witnesses heard everything, and Emily finally began to see the truth. She realized I had never abandoned her.
A month later, after court and hard conversations, she was back in my home. We were rebuilding. She knew I had never stopped loving her — and never would.
