When my husband told me he was leaving for Canada for two years because of a new work opportunity, I cried as I drove him to the airport. But the moment he disappeared beyond the security checkpoint, my tears stopped.
I already knew the truth. We stood together inside JFK International Airport, surrounded by travelers dragging suitcases across the polished floor while boarding announcements echoed through the terminal. Daniel pulled me close. “Hey… everything is going to be okay, sweetheart,” he whispered, gently running his fingers through my hair. “It’s only two years in…