I stayed home while my ex-husband married the woman who had once counseled our marriage. I thought keeping my distance would protect what little dignity I had left. Then my daughter called from the wedding, crying, and I realized Linda was not finished trying to take my place.
I didn’t go to my ex-husband’s wedding because I knew exactly what people would see.
They’d see Leo standing at the altar with Linda, our former marriage counselor, while I sat in the back row pretending my hands weren’t shaking.
They would see the woman who lost her husband to the person paid to save her marriage.
I refused to give them that picture.
So I stayed home.
At 2:17 that afternoon, I sat on my couch with the TV paused and a carton of pistachio ice cream on the coffee table.
Then my phone rang.
I didn’t go to my ex-husband’s wedding.
Aria.
She was supposed to be at the wedding with my son, Tyler.
I answered on the first ring.
“Aria?”
For a second, all I heard was her breathing.
Then she whispered, “Mom, you need to come here right now.”
I stood before I even knew I was moving.
All I heard was her breathing.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.” Her voice cracked. “Not like that, but please hurry. I can’t do this without you.”
***
Leo and I didn’t fall apart overnight. It started with little things: sighs, sharp replies, quiet dinners, and fights over nothing.
After twenty-two years, two kids, and a mortgage, we felt like strangers standing in the same kitchen.
Aria was eighteen, and Tyler was twenty. They were both old enough to understand, but not old enough for it not to hurt.
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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