Congratulations on Losing Me

My wife's childhood best friend returned from overseas with a child. To protect his reputation and secure the boy's future, she told everyone that she was the child's mother.

And my child? She claimed that my daughter was the bastard I had brought home after fooling around behind her back.

When I finally broke down and demanded an explanation, she remained as calm as ever.

"Bryan has always had it hard at home," she said. "And his son cannot grow up without a mother. I have to help them."

That day, I looked at the woman I had loved for seven years and decided that I would never love her again.

When I learned that Gwyneth Sullivan planned to take Bryan Thatcher on a trip three days later to help sell the lie that his child was really her firstborn, I called my mother-in-law, Hilda Brunt.

"Mrs. Sullivan, I want a divorce."

Hilda let out a long sigh on the other end of the line. "Oh, dear child, it was Gwen who wronged you."

Ever since Gwyneth told everyone that our child, Prudence, was some bastard I had brought home after fooling around outside, a child I had forced her to raise, we had fought more fiercely than at any other time in our seven-year marriage.

When she realized I intended to take our daughter and leave, she had people lock me inside the villa.

Even when I took Prudence out for a checkup, a dozen bodyguards followed me every step of the way.

"She is our child," she had said. "I can't abandon her."

So she knew. She knew Prudence was her child. Yet with one careless sentence, she had nearly destroyed both our lives, even though she knew perfectly well that our daughter was her biological child.

Bryan's son, Sam, was the one whose mother no one knew.

I brushed my fingers over my daughter's sleeping cheek and realized this was my last chance. The thought that she might grow up without a mother's love hurt deeply. Yet I could not bear the idea that she would carry the stain of someone else's sin from the moment she was born.

Perhaps she felt the warmth of my hand. She shifted in her sleep and smiled, as if she understood how broken I felt, as if she were trying to comfort me.

Tears fell at once. I pulled my hand back and stepped out onto the balcony for air. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. Forgive your father for being cruel."

I had barely steadied myself when the villa door opened.

Gwyneth walked over and stopped in front of me. She glanced at my red eyes and said in the same flat voice, "Don't be like this in front of Prudence. Try to be happy."

It was easy for her to say. If I could control my feelings, I would never have fallen for the woman standing in front of me.

I had always known she kept a place for Bryan in her heart. I had always known that what she felt for me was not real love. The person I had loved most was the one who had wounded me most deeply.

"You've done so much to hurt me. You trapped me here. You took away my freedom." I looked at her. "What, I don't even have the right to feel devastated?"

She only stood there, guilt flickering across her face, but no words came.

Just like a few months earlier, not long after she gave birth…

I took Prudence for her shots that day. At the clinic, I ran into Gwyneth while she was there with Bryan's child.

She was gentle and attentive with Sam. She acted as if she feared he might be bumped or scratched.

"Gwen, look at our baby. He really takes after you."

A soft glow spread across Gwyneth's face. She let Bryan hold her hand, then allowed him to guide it to the child's little head.

The next moment, she looked up and saw me standing at the corner. She did not explain. She simply froze.

What a happy family of three.

If I had not been Gwyneth's husband, I might have said it out loud. I might even have envied them.

But I could not say it, and she did not deserve to hear it.

…

The woman standing in front of me remained silent for a moment, as if she had only just remembered something.