The Path He Chose
The house was too quiet. Michael stood outside the small cream-painted duplex, staring at the black gate. The paint was chipped near the hinges. Someone had tried to fix it before and failed. It leaned slightly to the left, stubborn but still standing. Just like his marriage. He checked the address again on his phone. He didn’t need to. He had driven past the place twice already before finding the courage to park. His wife, Elena, was inside with her sister. Three days ago, she had packed a suitcase and left. No shouting. No scene. Just one sentence that still rang in his ears. “If you’re going to fight for Daniel, then you’ve chosen your own path.” At the time, he had tried to reason with her. Tried to explain that fighting for his son didn’t mean abandoning her. But she had loo
- Writer
