Until I Disappeared

My husband's childhood sweetheart was diagnosed with a terminal illness.

To fulfill her last wishes and let her experience the warmth of family, my husband, Aaron Turner, gave her my necklace. He even let her claim my birthday.

Even our son started calling her "Mom" in private.

He told me, "Chrishell, Sylvia is dying. Just give in to her, will you?"

Whenever I asked him to spare even a little time and affection for me, our son, Lucas, would rush to speak on their behalf.

"Mom, didn't you always teach me to be generous? Sylvia is dying. Why do you always make things difficult for her?"

Over time, I stopped asking for anything at all.

Then one night, I overheard my son speaking to his father after returning from the hospital.

"Sylvia is so gentle and graceful. I wish Mom could be more like her."

Aaron chuckled and affectionately brushed his hand over our son's hair.

"Your mom may be a little strict, but it's all for your own good. Since you like Sylvia so much, how about we let her be your godmother?"

So even the child I risked my life to bring into this world didn't like me.

I lowered my gaze, quietly closed the bedroom door, and pretended none of it had happened.

Since they were both filled with such regret, I'd leave quietly and give them what they wanted.

My husband, Aaron Turner, and our son, Lucas Turner, made the headlines together.

"Breaking News! Cold and ruthless mafia boss Aaron Turner secretly married—with a five-year-old son!"

But I wasn't the woman featured in the story.

In the video, Aaron and Sylvia Blair were walking hand-in-hand with five-year-old Lucas through an amusement park. Sylvia smiled gently as she caressed Lucas's head, while Aaron stood by, quietly watching her with soft, unwavering eyes.

They looked exactly like a family of three.

A few hours later, Sylvia updated her Instagram.

[Thank you, Aaron and Lucas, for the lovely gift to celebrate my discharge from the hospital! The cup was handmade by Lucas himself!]

I clicked on the photo and saw a necklace… and a handmade ceramic cup. Carved faintly at the bottom were the words "Happy birthday, Mom."

Instinctively, I turned to look at the untouched dinner on the table and the birthday cake still flickering with candles. A bitter smile crept across my face.

Today was my birthday. It was also the fifth anniversary of my marriage to Aaron.

But the one they were celebrating for wasn't me.

They remembered the day Sylvia was discharged from the hospital, but forgot my birthday entirely.

I received no gifts from my husband or my son. Sylvia, on the other hand, got a surprise from both of them.

I didn't know how long I had been sitting in the dark when Aaron finally came home with Lucas.

Seeing me sitting alone in the center of the living room, Aaron froze for a second. He flicked on the light and looked at me in surprise.

"Why are you sitting here in the dark so late? Why haven't you gone to bed?"

When I didn't respond, he frowned, assuming I was about to start another argument over Sylvia. He glanced at Lucas first.

"Lucas, go on upstairs and get some rest."

Lucas yawned and nodded. But just as he passed by me, he suddenly stopped and looked up.

"Happy birthday, Mom."

His eyes—so much like his father's—gazed at me with innocent confusion.

"We didn't forget your birthday on purpose. You're not mad just because we spent a little time with Sylvia… are you? After all, we'll have plenty more birthdays to celebrate with you in the future. But Sylvia only has six months left."

He didn't just look like his father—he spoke like him, too.

Six months ago, Aaron had worn the same innocent expression when he told me that his childhood friend Sylvia was terminally ill.

"Chrishell, Sylvia's been an orphan since she was little. She says she's going to die soon, and she's never known the warmth of a family. I just want to spend more time with her—with our son. I don't want her to have any regrets. Please, try to understand. We still have many years ahead of us. But she… only has one."

I had nodded in silence and agreed.

From that moment on, he and Lucas spent more and more time with her.

When I timidly asked for a little of their time for myself, Aaron said I was being jealous, competing with Sylvia for attention.

Eventually, I stopped asking for anything at all.

I watched quietly as they gave her everything that once belonged to me—the dress I loved, my necklace, the amusement park trip I had planned weeks in advance, the anniversary celebration I had so carefully prepared.

One night, after returning home from the hospital, Lucas whispered to Aaron, "Sylvia is so gentle and graceful. I wish Mom could be more like her."

I overheard it. And in that moment, my last hope crumbled.

From that day on, I stopped protesting. I told myself not to feel sad anymore, no matter what they did.

But now, as I looked at the child I carried for nine long months, the one I brought into the world with excruciating pain, my heart still throbbed like it had been hollowed out.

They didn't know, I no longer had "many more years" with them.

I turned to look at my cake, still topped with many candles. Beneath it lay a folded document—my signed divorce papers.

The night I overheard their conversation, I quietly booked a plane ticket.

I was leaving tomorrow. So, tonight was supposed to be the last time I celebrated my birthday with them.