Chapter 3: The Man I Thought I Married
The sentence followed me everywhere.
He knew her before you introduced us.
I replayed it again and again.
Like my mind was searching for a different meaning.
But there wasn't one.
My husband had a history with my mother.
A history I didn't know existed.
I left the house before anyone at the party could see my face.
I didn't explain.
I didn't say goodbye.
I walked outside in my pink maternity dress, past the balloons and decorations, while people smiled at me.
“Emma, where are you going?””
I ignored them.
The fresh air hit my face.
For the first time in twenty minutes, I could breathe.
I sat in my car and locked the doors.
Then I cried.
Not the kind of crying where tears quietly fall.
The kind where your whole body shakes because you don't know what else to do.
My phone rang.
Cole.
I watched his name appear.
I didn't answer.
He called again.
And again.
Finally, a message appeared.
Emma, please. Let me explain everything.
I stared at those words.
Everything.
That word scared me.
Because I was starting to understand there was much more than one kiss.
That night, I stayed at my best friend Lily’s house.
She opened the door and immediately knew something was wrong.
“Emma?””
I looked at her.
Then I broke down.
I told her everything.
Not every detail.
I couldn't.
Some things were too painful to say out loud.
When I finished, Lily sat beside me.
“Your mother?””
I nodded.
“And Cole?””
Another nod.
She covered her mouth.
“I don't even know what to say.””
“Neither do I.””
My phone buzzed.
A message from my mother.
Please let me talk to you.
I showed Lily.
“She wants to explain.””
Lily looked angry.
“Do you want to hear her?””
I stared at the screen.
A part of me wanted to ignore her forever.
But another part needed answers.
“I need to know how long they lied.””
The next morning, I met my mother at a quiet café.
She looked older than she had the day before.
Like one night had aged her years.
She sat across from me.
“I’m sorry.””
I looked at her.
“I don’t want an apology.””
She nodded.
“I know.””
“I want the truth.””
She took a deep breath.
“Cole and I met eight years ago.””
My hands went cold.
Eight years.
I had known Cole for five.
“You met him before me?””
“Yes.””
“How?””
“He worked at the company where your father had investments.””
I stared.
“That makes no sense.””
“It does.””
“Then explain.””
My mother looked down.
“He helped me with paperwork after your father died.””
I shook my head.
“You told me you barely knew him.””
“I was afraid.””
“Afraid of what?””
Her eyes filled.
“That you would hate me.””
I laughed quietly.
“You were right.””
She flinched.
I hated seeing her hurt.
But I was hurt too.
“Did you have feelings for him?””
“No.””
The answer came quickly.
Too quickly.
Then she added:
“Not at first.””
I froze.
There it was.
The truth hiding inside another truth.
“What does that mean?””
She looked toward the window.
“He was always kind to me.””
I swallowed.
“So?””
“So after your father died, I was lonely.””
I closed my eyes.
Every excuse sounded like a knife.
“Did Cole love you?””
“No.””
She whispered it.
But her voice wasn't convincing.
“Then why did he kiss you?””
Silence.
My mother reached into her purse.
She pulled out an envelope.
“I kept this because I knew someday you might need to see it.””
I didn't move.
“What is it?””
“A letter.””
“From who?””
Her eyes met mine.
“Your father.””
My heart stopped.
“My father died six years ago.””
“I know.””
“Then why do you have a letter from him?””
She pushed it across the table.
“Because he wrote it before he died.””
I looked at the envelope.
My name was written on the front.
Not my mother’s.
Mine.
And suddenly I understood why Cole looked terrified.
May you like
The kiss wasn't the secret.
The letter was.
