I cried because I finally understood how much of myself I had folded into our marriage without noticing.
Tyler hadn’t simply cheated on me.
He had built an entirely new future before finding the courage to end the one he already had.
And somehow, he had expected me to quietly step aside and accept it.
I don’t hate him anymore.
Most days, I don’t feel strongly enough about him to hate him.
Mason is doing better.
He still asks questions.
Sometimes difficult ones.
Sometimes questions I don’t know how to answer.
I tell him what I can.
Tyler and I communicate mostly about school.
Doctor appointments.
Activities.
Pickup times.
Boring things.
I’ve learned to appreciate boring.
I don’t know whether Tyler and Laila will last.
I genuinely don’t care.
A relationship that began with lies is theirs to manage.
My responsibility was rebuilding the life that disappeared somewhere over 30,000 feet.
And I did.
Not perfectly.
But enough.
The drawing Mason made for Tyler is still inside my desk.
He never gave it to him.
Once, I asked if he wanted to throw it away.
He shook his head.
“Maybe I’ll give it to him someday.”
So I kept it.
I think that’s where both of us are now.
We aren’t pretending nothing happened.
We aren’t pretending it didn’t hurt.
We’re simply leaving a little room for someday.
Whatever someday eventually means.
But there is one thing I know for certain.
Mason and I are going to be okay.
