My Wife Left Me and Our Children After I Lost My Job – Two Years Later, I Accidentally Met Her in a Café, and She Was in Tears
Two years ago, my wife, Anna, walked out on me and our kids at the lowest point in our lives. When I lost my job, I thought we’d face it together. Instead, she packed a single suitcase, looked me in the eye, and said coldly, “I can’t do this anymore.”
Max and Lily, our four-year-old twins, clung to me, confused and terrified. I was too stunned to speak, watching the woman I loved disappear through the front door without a backward glance.
Before the collapse, life had been comfortable. I worked as a software engineer, earning a six-figure salary. Anna was meticulous — polished, proud, and always in control. But when the company went bankrupt overnight, that control vanished. I told her we would rebuild, but all she saw was failure.
The months that followed were brutal. I drove for ride-share services at night and delivered groceries by day, sleeping in short bursts between shifts. My parents helped when they could, but they were retired and struggling. The loneliness was crushing, but every time Max or Lily wrapped their tiny arms around my neck and whispered, “We love you, Daddy,” I found the strength to keep going.
The first year was pure survival. The second brought change. I landed a remote coding job — modest but steady. I moved us into a smaller apartment, started cooking again, and built a routine filled with laughter, bedtime stories, and Saturday pancakes. Slowly, the cracks began to heal.
Then one ordinary afternoon, in a café near our new home, the past came rushing back.