Twenty-four years ago, I was a young man, madly in love with a girl named Kira. I couldn’t go a day without her. We moved in together, and then we got married. I dreamed of having children, but Kira always said we should focus on ourselves first. I was ecstatic when we finally received the joyous news that she was pregnant. After a challenging delivery, we learned we had triplets—two boys and a girl—and I couldn’t contain my emotions, running down the hospital corridor shouting with joy.

I went home to pick up things for the discharge, and when I returned, I found that Kira had disappeared, leaving the children behind. I immediately called my parents, who lived nearby. They arrived within 15 minutes and promised to help with the grandchildren. They even praised Kira for leaving quietly and without causing any disturbance.

My children grew up fast. Before I knew it, they had graduated from school with honors. Now, my sons are studying—one to become a lawyer, the other a programmer—and my daughter is training to be a dentist. I’m incredibly proud of them. They’ve grown up, become independent, and frequently assist me financially.

As you can imagine, I never remarried. At first, I didn’t have time to think about it, and later, I just didn’t feel the desire. A year ago, there was a knock on my door. When I opened it, I saw Kira. She looked as if she’d aged 40 years. I invited her in and offered her tea and cookies, and within 15 minutes, I regretted it.

Kira said she realized her mistake and wanted to apologize to me and the children. Then, she mentioned she had nowhere to live and hoped I would help her. She then proceeded to demand that I allocate a portion of my monthly salary to her. For what—who knows?

I showed her the door and told her not to come near the children if all she saw in them was an opportunity for gain. She took me to court for alimony, but of course, she lost. When my daughter met her mother for the first time, she said, You know, Kira, I used to envy my friends when they talked about sharing secrets with their moms, borrowing their clothes, or using their makeup. I always dreamed of feeling a mother’s warmth and of knowing what it’s like to have an adult friend in the family. But now, seeing who you truly are, I can say with certainty: if I had a choice, I’d still choose to live my life without you. Not a single day with you.”