My Daughters Want to Reconnect After 11 Years — But I Don’t Think I Can Let Them Back In
After more than a decade of silence and rejection, a father is torn between protecting his peace and reopening old wounds when his estranged daughters finally reach out — but only after learning the truth from their dying mother.
I (55M) married my ex-wife (55F) when we were 18. We met at 16, grew up together, and spent 26 years married. We had three daughters — twin girls, now 31, and another daughter who’s 29.
After more than two decades together, we changed. I realized at 44 that I was no longer fulfilled in our marriage when I found myself drawn to a coworker — the woman who would eventually become my current wife (51F). There was no cheating, no emotional affair. The realization simply made me confront that I wasn’t happy, and I ended my marriage. I didn’t begin dating my current wife until three years later.
My ex knew that timeline — but she told our daughters I had cheated on her and left for another woman. They were 19, 19, and 17 at the time. They refused to listen to me, cut me off completely, and wanted nothing to do with me. It shattered me.
In that pain, I turned to alcohol. I became dependent. It was my new wife who pulled me out of that dark place, who stood by me through recovery, therapy, and years of AA meetings. Now, after 6 years of sobriety, I finally built a life worth living again.
“They Believed the Worst About Me — Without Even Asking”
For years, I kept reaching out — birthdays, holidays, random texts — but they never answered. By the time I turned 50, I realized their rejection was poisoning my recovery. I stopped trying. I accepted that I had lost them.
Then, last week, I got a Facebook message from one of the twins. My ex-wife had passed away two months ago from stage 4 breast cancer. Before she died, she told them the truth — that I never cheated, never left for someone else. Now, my daughters wanted to see me.
For years I imagined that day — the message, the reunion, the forgiveness. But when it finally came, I didn’t feel joy. I felt… nothing. Or maybe something worse. Hesitation. Fear. Resentment. Because after 11 years, I realized I don’t trust them anymore.
“They believed the worst version of me without question — and I’m supposed to open my door like nothing happened?”
The Cost of Letting Go
The truth is, their rejection changed me. It destroyed the man I was, but in its aftermath, I built a new life — one rooted in peace. I have an amazing wife, a wonderful stepdaughter, two cats, and a calm home. I’m proud of my sobriety. I’m proud of my boundaries.
Letting them back in means reopening the deepest wound of my life. They didn’t even question their mother’s story — not once in 11 years. They didn’t reach out when I hit rock bottom. And now that the truth has come from someone else, suddenly I’m worth talking to again?
I know this may be my only chance to have them back, but I can’t ignore how much they hurt me. I don’t want to risk falling back into that darkness just to ease their guilt.
“I spent years begging for their love. I finally stopped — and that’s when they came back.”
Can Love Survive This Kind of Silence?
I’m not angry anymore — just numb. My daughters have lived half their adult lives believing I was a liar and a cheat. That kind of betrayal doesn’t heal overnight, even if it wasn’t intentional. I don’t want to punish them, but I also don’t know how to trust them again.
My wife tells me forgiveness doesn’t have to mean reconnection. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I can forgive them in my heart but keep them out of my daily life. Or maybe I’ll regret it if I don’t try. I honestly don’t know.
For now, I haven’t replied. I’m taking time — not out of cruelty, but out of self-preservation. Because I’ve learned the hard way that sometimes love isn’t enough when trust is gone.
“I waited 11 years for their love — now I’m not sure I want it anymore.”
💬 Typical Reader Reactions:
“NTA. Protect your peace. They only came back when the truth became convenient.”
“You’re allowed to forgive without reopening old wounds. Healing doesn’t require reunion.”
“Maybe respond — but on your terms. You don’t owe them access, only honesty.”
🌱 Final Thoughts
Sometimes reconciliation comes too late. This father spent over a decade grieving children who believed lies about him — and now that the truth has surfaced, he’s left questioning whether love can undo that kind of damage. Healing doesn’t always mean reunion. Sometimes, it means honoring the life you built after the heartbreak.
What do you think?
Should he open the door to his daughters again, or protect the peace he fought so hard to find? Share your thoughts below 👇





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