Husband of Lies, Son of None

At sixty-five, I got served divorce papers.

The same day, my husband Sebastian — decked out in his wedding suit, of all things — popped a handful of sleeping pills in a suicide attempt.

For years, we were the perfect couple. The kind of pair neighbors whispered about with envy.

I couldn't wrap my head around it. The divorce. The pills. None of it made sense.

Not until I found the photo and letter in his pocket.