There was a photograph Claire had posted.
She was wearing a beautiful white dress.
Daniel stood beside her, smiling.
The caption read:
“Finally beginning the life we were meant to have.”
I immediately locked my phone.
Ethan looked at me.
“Mom?”
“I’m fine.”
He didn’t believe me.
He sat beside me.
“Are you going to the wedding?”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“Good.”
I looked at him.
“What do you mean, good?”
His jaw tightened.
“I don’t want you anywhere near them today.”
I reached for his hand.
“Ethan, I know you’re angry.”
“I’m not angry.”
“You are.”
He looked down at the floor.
Then he whispered:
“I’m disappointed.”
Those words hurt more than anger would have.
“He’s your father.”
Ethan laughed bitterly.
“Is he?”
I didn’t know what to say.
For eighteen years, I had tried to protect my sons from the ugliest parts of our marriage.
I never told them everything.
I never told them about the nights Daniel came home late.
I never told them about the messages I’d accidentally seen.
I never told them how many times I’d asked him if there was someone else.
And I certainly hadn’t told them about the cruel sentence he had spoken when he left.
Claire isn’t burdened with children.
But Ethan knew enough.
He knew his father had chosen another woman.
He knew that woman was his aunt.
