When I married Wyatt, it felt like I was entering into a whirlwind romance with a man who was unlike anyone I’d ever met.
A year later, that whirlwind turned into a storm, leaving me alone, deceived, and shattered after discovering his infidelity.
Our di:vor:ce was quick and sterile. There were no children. There are no shared assets to compete for. But emotionally?
It left me devastated. Financially, things were far worse. Wyatt left me drowning in legal bills, unable to reconstruct my life from the devastation he brought.
I moved into a small apartment on the outskirts of town and took up a second job at my lawyer’s office.
Then, one frosty afternoon, I received a package at my door.
No name. There’s no return address.
It was simply a set of keys and a note containing an address, a date, and a time.
I clutched the keys and the note to my chest, my heart beating. Was it Wyatt?
That was something I desperately wanted.
Perhaps this was a peace offering.
The location directed me to a modern apartment downtown.
It was Jill, my ex-mother-in-law, sitting on a comfortable white sofa.
“This apartment is my gift to you,” she said smoothly. “Of all the women my son has been with, you were the best. The most deserving.”
“On one condition,” she added.
“A grandson,” she said as if it were the most reasonable request in the world.
“Wyatt is my only child, and I doubt he’ll ever become a family man. We need a grandchild to carry on the family name.”
“Just call him, tell him you miss him, invite him here for a romantic dinner. He’ll come. I know he will. I’m not asking for anything complicated. Once my grandson arrives, I’ll provide everything you need. And more.”
This woman believed I was desperate.
She did not recognize me as a person. She only saw me as a means to an end.
The thought of being with Wyatt… being intimate with Wyatt… turned me off. I felt nauseous.
“No,” I said finally.
“Think carefully, girl,” she warned. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”
I left the keys on the table and went away, ignoring her protests.
The next two years were both the most challenging and gratifying of my life. I dedicated myself to my job at the law firm, staying late, volunteering for extra tasks, and making connections.
Eventually, I was offered the position of head of client relations. It came with a good salary, a corner office, and something I hadn’t felt in a long time.
At the firm, I met Daniel.
He was an associate attorney who was compassionate, empathic, and quietly amusing, which made hard days feel better.
We married a year later in a simple ceremony in front of our closest friends and family.
A year later, we welcomed our son Ethan.
One morning, I was going through the park, pushing Ethan’s stroller while Daniel jogged ahead.
As I halted by a bench to fix Ethan’s blanket, I noticed a woman sitting a few feet away.
It was Jill.
She was crying, burying her face in her hands. She appeared older and tired. Her hair looked disheveled, her clothes were simple, and her distinctive pearls were nowhere to be seen. A stack of papers had fallen from her lap and scattered at her feet.
I walked up to her.
Jill looked up, surprised.
Her gaze shifted to the pram, settling on Ethan’s beaming face.
Her expression reflected a mix of longing and bitterness.
“Wyatt married again,” she blurted out, her voice dripping with bitterness. “It didn’t last, of course. He married her after only three months, and
thought she was the perfect trophy wife. But she was just as cunning as he was. Took him for everything.”
“He lost a fortune in the divorce. And now? There’s nothing left. He came crawling back to me. I’ve spent every penny trying to keep him afloat.”
We talked a little more about Ethan and life before Jill collected her belongings and stood.
“You could have given me a grandson after all. He’s lovely,” she said. “Goodbye, Emilia.”
I watched her go away with her back bowed against the cold.
A few minutes later, Daniel raced over to me, his cheeks flushing. He leaned down, kissed me, and lifted Ethan from the pram, making him laugh.
We strolled away together, leaving the past where it belonged.