Chapter 4

The plane landed in an unfamiliar southern city. Humid air washed over me.

I went to my best friend Brenda's house.

She had just retired, her husband had passed away, and she had no children. It was the freest time of her life.

It had been years, but Brenda was as warm as ever, holding my hand and asking endless questions.

When she heard I was divorced, she cheered:

"You should've left him ages ago! That jerk never deserved you."

Her words surprised me.

For 30 years, I'd always felt like I had married above my station.

Michael and I both came from humble backgrounds, introduced and married.

Everyone in our village said I'd hit the jackpot; Michael's family was one of the wealthiest there, and he was tall and good-looking.

In front of him, I always felt a bit insecure, so I just tried my best to take care of him.

Not long after we married, we followed his father thousands of miles away to the city to start a business.

After Daniel was born, the recycling yard business thrived, and more and more rumors of Michael's shenanigans reached my ears.

But they were always just rumors. Michael had always been gentle and attentive to me, so I never truly doubted him.

Brenda poured me a glass of red wine and asked about my plans.

"Take me to a spa. I want to know what a foot massage feels like."

"No problem."

In the private room at the spa, the lights were dim, the music soft. Brenda saw my cautious demeanor and couldn't help but tease:

"Don't tell me you've never been to a spa before."

My face flushed, and I gave an embarrassed smile.

Brenda scoffed in disbelief:

"A guy like Michael, he's probably had hundreds of massages outside, if not thousands. You, Sarah, you're just too naive."

The masseur was a young guy in his twenties. Every time he called me "ma'am," I got goosebumps.

*Is this how Michael got caught, with all those "sirs" from the massage parlor girls?*

Lost in thought, I drifted off to sleep.

When I woke up, my phone had a dozen missed calls and dozens of messages.

Daniel and Chloe were frantic:

"Mom, Leo's still crying after his milk. What should we do?"

"Mom, Grandma Martha's adult diapers are gone. Where do you buy them?"

"Mom, when are you coming home?"

Before I could finish reading the messages, Daniel's call came through again:

"Mom, where are you? When are you coming back?"

Leo's crying could be heard in the background. My nose tingled.

"I'm out enjoying myself for a few days. I'll be back soon. You two handle it for now."

Daniel fell silent. The sound of Leo's crying and dishes clattering grew clearer.

Afraid I'd give in, I immediately hung up, but tears still flowed stubbornly.

After three days of fun with Brenda, Daniel's messages started to change.

From anxious inquiries, they turned into subtle reproaches. The last message was a direct accusation:

"How can you be so selfish, Mom? At your age, you're still not home, not acting like a grandmother should."

Reading those words, my heart felt like it had been brutally stabbed.

Since marrying Michael, I had never rested.

Even with a fever, I would get up in the middle of the night to feed Leo and change his diapers.

I raised Daniel, and then came Leo.

Both Daniel and Chloe worked, so Leo had slept with me since he was born.

Every two hours, I'd get up to warm the breast milk Chloe had stored in the fridge for him.

After six months, half my hair was gone.

I touched my thinning hair and asked Brenda:

"Where can I get a hair treatment?"

Brenda laughed at me:

"Hair treatment? Seriously, Sarah? That's so old school. Leave it to me."

Brenda took me to a hair salon. Soon, my hair was dark again, making me look 10 years younger instantly.

When it was time to pay, I suddenly thought to check my bank balance.

Seven figures!

I stared at the number, counting it several times.

I couldn't believe Michael was so rich!

Yet I’d been picking through discount vegetables at the supermarket, waiting until 8 PM for meat sales, taking the bus instead of a taxi, haggling with grocers over a few cents.

All these years, Michael and I had been living in two completely different worlds.

As Brenda and I were binging a show with face masks on, Michael showed up.

"You've had your fun. Come home with me. Everything's a mess."

Seeing Michael's anger about to boil over, Brenda stepped between us, smiling at Michael.

"Oh, it's all my fault. I asked Sarah to stay with me for a few days, I forgot she had a whole family to take care of."

She politely invited Michael in and specifically brewed him tea.

"Michael, have some tea first. I'll help Sarah pack her bags."

Brenda winked at me, and I followed her into the bedroom.

I thought she was going to encourage reconciliation, but instead, she leaned in and whispered:

"You haven't gotten the divorce certificate yet, don't burn your bridges too soon. Figure out a way to make him leave with nothing, otherwise, won't that woman and her kid just get everything?"

"But he gave me all the assets, didn't he?"

"You're naive! He definitely didn't give you everything. He's tricking you into this divorce so he can be with that woman. If he gave *you* all his money, how would he support his child?"

Her words hit me like a revelation. I quickly packed my bags and went home with Michael.

I didn't have proof of his infidelity, but I was going to make sure he left with nothing.

Back home, Michael was still out all the time.

I hired a daytime housekeeper and stopped doing any chores myself.

With my free time, I followed Michael and found Jessica's house.

After two days of staking out their apartment complex's recycling room, I successfully retrieved the trash she'd thrown out.

With only a week left until the final divorce, the DNA test results for her child came back.

The result was a huge shock!

6

I arranged to meet Jessica at a coffee shop, and she readily agreed.

She was wearing a dress, her figure curvy, looking around 30 years old, with a composed demeanor.