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...she chose, just as she always did. How she broke my heart.

But I wanted Ella, she taught me to love again, she gave me my heart desires, a family and a home, all the things I craved growing up. And for what to never really love me at all. I feel anger run through my veins as I pick up her photo, displayed on the night stand.

‘How?’ Why?’ I scream at her smiling face, her arms around our three children, ‘group hug’ as she used to call it, laughing.

‘Smile for daddy’ she had shouted, waving at the camera, as I took the picture.

‘arrgh’ I growl and throw the picture in the waste paper bin besides my desk, and stomp around the room, just as the door burst open and my eldest daughter comes flying in.

‘Dad, dad’ She cries, running to me and throwing her arms around my waist, crying into my shirt. Looking every inch the same as her mother, right down to the colour of her hair.

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