Starting Over at Sixty Years Old

On the day of my wedding anniversary, I was cleaning my house when I found a picture album.

As it turned out, my husband had been religiously taking pictures with the girl of his dreams every year on this precise date.

He had been doing it since he was forty years old and he was now sixty years old. His hair had progressed from a jet black to a faded white and yet, he kept up the tradition.

There was a written message in his handwriting at the back of the picture that read, “Eternal Love.”

Since he doesn't love me, I will no longer bother washing his clothes and cooking for him. I will no longer care for his children and grandchildren.

I may have foolishly wasted half of my life, but it was not too late to make a change.

Today is my wedding anniversary with my husband Arthur Jones. For some reason, he would always be away during this exact date.

We had been married for more than forty years and yet, he refused to spend any romantic, special occasions with me.

After finishing breakfast all alone, I went to mop the floor. I was just passing by the study when I caught the mess piled up at the bookshelf from the corner of my eye.

With a dragged out sigh, I set aside the mop and went inside to sort out the mess.

When I got to the topmost row, a heavy book with a thick and intricate cover dropped and smacked against my head. The abrupt pain made me hiss.

It took a while before I finally realized that what I was looking at was not any ordinary book. Instead, it was a wedding album.

All of the pictures inside featured the same pair of couple. They were dressed in different sets of wedding gowns and suits in each picture, the only thing that was consistent was the bright, heartwarming smile they wore on their faces.

The man inside the pictures was someone I was beyond familiar with. It was Arthur.

However, the woman in the pictures was not me.

I pressed a hand against the throbbing pain on my temple and could feel my head spinning. For a moment, I could not register if it was my head or my heart that ached more.

The most recent picture in the album was taken precisely one year ago from the present date. Even though the couple’s hair had turned white, they seemed as enamored with each other as young lovers were.

There was also a handwritten message in Arthur’s writing behind the picture.

He had written it with meticulous penmanship. It was clear how much value he attributed to it.

“Eternal Love”

Upon closer inspection, each picture was labeled with a date.

From forty to sixty years old. Their hair had faded gradually from black to white and yet, they have never missed a single year.

As it turned out, this was the reason my husband had been inventing all sorts of excuses to skip celebrating our wedding anniversary every year. It was all so he could take an annual wedding picture with the love of his life.

This was completely absurd.

I shut the album with trembling hands while my thoughts traced back to Arthur's demeanor before he left home yesterday.

He mentioned that our son was going on a business trip abroad and needed his help for translation because the usual translator could not make it.

I did not think much of it at the time. It was especially convincing since he used to be a foreign language professor before he retired.

I did suggest that we could go together so I could get the chance to explore another country. The sheer suggestion made his expression darken.

“Our son is there for official business, why are you trying to meddle with his work? Besides, you don’t even speak the language there. You're only going to cause more trouble!”

I was so flustered that I was at a loss for words. However, I had to admit he had a point.

Now that I thought about it, the one person my son respected the most was none other than his father. He would be more than glad to pick Arthur to accompany him on the business trip.

With that, I reached for my phone and called my son to verify the story.

“My dear, your father told me he’s going on a business trip with you. I’m worried about his health—how are you two holding up over there?”

There was a prolonged silence on the phone. Then, he told me in an unusually candid voice, “He’s great. He might be sixty years old, but he’s very healthy for his age!”

He was covering for Arthur.

Upon realizing this, I could feel my heart turn to a block of ice. I hung up the phone after a couple half-hearted remarks, then beads of tears began to fall.

I was not expecting my son of all people to be in cahoots with my husband to lie to me.

…

Arthur took the wedding pictures at the same photo studio every year.

I took a taxi to the same studio.

We have been married for decades. Perhaps the only way for me to truly end things was to witness the brutal betrayal in person.

When I stepped out of the car, I observed it was getting cloudy. There was going to be a storm soon.

I nervously paced to the entrance.

It did not take long before I spotted Arthur through the window. He was seated on a couch and dressed in a handsome suit.