A New Beginning After Divorce

With trembling hands, I clicked on the profile picture, unveiling a life completely different from my own. In every single one of these memories, Derek Lee was there without exception. There were shots of him at book signings for his memoir, dining at trendy bistros, and even hiking with my son and daughter-in-law. The timeline stretched back five years.

What was I doing back then? I collapsed onto the floor, struggling to remember. Maybe I was changing diapers for my newborn grandson or taking care of my bedridden mother-in-law.

After watching the videos, Derek returned. He paused, staring at me silently for a long moment, then walked over and snatched the phone away. I wanted to yell at him—this shameless man, flitting from one thing to another even at his age. But the words caught in my throat, and instead, I managed to choke out a single question: "What kind of relationship do you have with my sister?"

Derek didn't explain, didn't argue. With an air of calm detachment, he simply stated, "Our feelings emerged naturally but were always within boundaries. We have common interests; she's a kindred spirit in my later years. Kindred spirits are hard to find. We only travel together and have never crossed any lines. I've never left my family, so what's making you so upset?"

He stood there with his hands behind his back, as if to suggest how could a simple woman like me possibly understand the virtues of a gentleman like him. I thought I had come to terms with everything by now. But for the past five years, was it really me who didn't want to share his interests?

I said I wanted to see this memoir as his crowning achievement. He insisted it was his professional domain and didn't want family interference. I had heard about that bistro from our daughter, but he claimed that home cooking was healthier and advised against eating out. When the family planned a hiking trip, who was left to take care of the baby at home?

The only one truly abandoned was me. The only one left in the dark by everyone was me. Clinging to the sofa, I struggled to my feet, refusing to let it go, and asked, "Five years, and you kept this from me for five whole years?"

His gaze flickered, casting a pitiful look before turning away. My memories crumbled, piecing together details and fragments, revealing a truth I had never dared to imagine. It hadn't just been five years.