Chapter 1

On the night of my 50th birthday, after years of our marriage being little more than a formality, my husband, Michael, actually came to my bed.

I thought it was his birthday gift to me, but as soon as he was done, he said:

"Let's get a divorce. Just like last time, you can have all the assets."

Tears streaming down my face, I nodded in agreement.

The woman he'd been seeing five years ago was back, and she had a child with her.

The day we finalized the divorce, I handed him a paternity test report.

This wasn't the first time Michael had asked for a divorce.

The last time was five years ago. He claimed he'd racked up gambling debts and wanted a "fake" divorce to protect our family assets.

But there's no such thing as a "fake" divorce in this world; a divorce certificate is always real.

Back then, I was foolish enough to believe him, mostly because we divorced but didn't separate.

I still stayed home, managing the household and caring for our large family.

Only, he rarely came home, and his phone was often unreachable.

I worried, but then I thought, *this is just how it is when you're hiding from debt*, and I settled my mind.

About half a year later, he told me the gambling debts were sorted, and we remarried.

I always thought he'd handled the whole thing quite cleverly.

Until one evening, Michael's friend, David, called, saying Michael was too drunk and I needed to pick him up.

I stood outside the private room and overheard their conversation:

"Dude, I told you long ago, those massage parlor girls are unreliable. It's normal for them to run off."

"Exactly, those kinds of women are just for fun, not worth getting upset over. Move on."

"I can't! I poured ten grand into her 'services' to boost her numbers! She just left, treating me like a fool!"

"Come on, Michael, stop drinking. Sarah's so good to you – sweet, understanding, and she keeps your home perfect. Go back to her."

The sound of a glass shattering inside jolted me awake from my dream of a happy marriage.

My lip was bleeding where I'd bitten it, and tears rolled down my cheeks uncontrollably.

So, there had been *her* between us.

Who was she? When did it start?

So many times, I wanted to ask, but the words caught in my throat.

I was terrified that if I asked, this family would truly fall apart.

That incident became a knot in my heart, a constant ache in my chest.

Now, who was he divorcing me for this time?

My grandson's cries pulled me back to reality. I was about to go comfort him when Michael grabbed my arm.

"Why aren't you asking *why*? Why are you agreeing so easily?"

It seemed he had a whole list of excuses ready, but I couldn't be fooled a second time.

I pretended to be concerned and asked:

"How much do you owe this time?"

He didn't answer directly. Instead, he hugged me tightly:

"Those bastards ganged up on me. This time, I might have to hide out for a while. The family's all on you."

Seeing my tears, he seemed convinced he'd fooled me. He let out a sigh of relief and fell peacefully asleep.

Soon, his snores filled the room. I quietly picked up his phone.

There were no strangers on SnapChat.

But on TikTok, all his recent likes were for the same woman.

I tapped on her profile. Her videos were almost all daily clips of a little boy.

Just as I was wondering about it, the woman's profile picture flashed.