Roger sighed again, looking out the window. “Alright. Let’s give it a shot. For the girls.”
The next few weeks were a whirlwind of emotions. Roger and I started going to counseling, trying to rebuild the trust and communication we had lost.
It wasn’t easy. There were days I felt hopeful, and on some days, I wanted to give up. But the thought of our daughters kept me going.
One evening, after a particularly tough session, Roger and I sat in the car in silence.
“Do you think this is working?” I asked quietly.
“I don’t know. But we owe it to the girls to try,” he replied, reaching over to squeeze my hand.
A month into counseling, we decided to tell our daughters about our efforts.
“Girls, your Dad and I have been talking. We’re trying to work things out,” I said cautiously, watching their faces light up.
“Really? Does that mean you’re getting back together?!” Casey chirped eagerly.
“We’re not making any promises, but we’re trying,” Roger confirmed.
The girls hugged us tightly, and I felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, we could make this work.
