Chapter 1
I was married for five years. For three of those, I cared for my paralyzed mother-in-law.
While my husband secretly took his mistress on vacation, I broke down and called my father.
He said, "Honey, take your mother-in-law to the plaza downstairs. And don't forget to bring photos of your husband and his mistress."
I did exactly that.
People there gathered around, buzzing with gossip. My mother-in-law's old friends came over one by one.
Someone recorded it and posted it online: [What's the point of keeping a son like this?]
My husband got roasted on social media from overseas, and his company fired him immediately.
The mistress's husband saw the video and flew over that night to catch them red-handed.
Shouldn't family shame be aired? I say otherwise. Some things only work when the whole world knows.
*****
My phone screen lit up.
A photo popped up, showing turquoise sea, blue sky, and golden sand.
There was David Summers, shirtless, his arm draped casually around a woman in a bikini.
And I recognized that woman instantly. Jessica Carter.
She was David's coworker.
Jessica was leaning in close, her head resting on David's shoulder, grinning from ear to ear.
David looked down at her, his eyes full of a tenderness I'd never seen from him before.
Behind them, the sun was sinking into the sea.
It was beautiful.
Under the photo, there was a message: [Claire, David says my seafood paella is his absolute favorite. You just can't beat Michelin stars overseas, right?]
Jessica sent it.
My stomach twisted into knots as I stared at her message.
"Claire, I'm thirsty. Get me some water," Margaret Summers, my mother-in-law, said from the back room, her voice slurred and bossy.
I turned off my phone screen and took a deep breath.
Then I walked into the kitchen and poured a glass of warm water.
The room was thick with the lingering stench of medicine and bodily waste.
Three years ago, Margaret had a stroke and ended up paralyzed.
David was always swamped with work and never had a minute to help out.
He pleaded with me to quit my job and stay home to look after her.
He told me, "Claire, we're family. My mom is your mom too. I know it's been tough on you these past few years, and I'll remember it for the rest of my life."
I believed him.
I held the glass to Margaret's lips and fed her slowly with a spoon.
Her throat moved as she swallowed, but her eyes never left the TV.
It was a family drama playing on the screen.
The show was about a daughter-in-law who kicked her mother-in-law out of the house and didn't respect her elders.
Margaret was glued to the screen.
"Look at that woman. She's trash," she mumbled.
I didn't say a word, just kept feeding her water in silence.
My phone buzzed again.
It was David: [Hey, babe, are you busy? I've been working on a project with a client all day, and I'm wiped out. There's a time difference here, so don't wait up for me. Get some rest, okay?]
He even added a kiss emoji at the end.
I stared at the words "I'm wiped out" and couldn't help but laugh.
Yeah, I bet he was.
He was busy with clients during the day and with Jessica at night.
I put the empty glass back in the kitchen.
When I got back to the living room, I grabbed my phone and forwarded the photo Jessica sent me straight to David.
I didn't add a single comment, not even a period.
Three minutes later, my phone rang. It was David.
I hung up.
He called again.
I hung up again.
The third time, I just powered off my phone.
Finally, peace and quiet.
I walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower.
The hot water poured over me, but I couldn't feel a thing.
For three years, I'd washed Margaret, changed her diapers, and helped her do her physical therapy every day.
I cleaned up after her myself, every single time.
I'd given up my career, my friends, everything.
And what did I get in return?
A picture of them together on the beach at sunset.
And a text bragging: [Michelin stars abroad really are something else.]
I slumped to the floor, water streaming down over me.
Not a single tear fell.
My tears had run out three years ago.
The day the doctor said Margaret would be bedridden for the rest of her life, David broke down and cried like a kid, clinging to me.
He said, "Claire, I'm so lucky to have you."
And then he was with another woman, saying he loved the seafood paella she cooked for him.
What a joke.
I turned off the shower, dried myself off, and got dressed.
The woman in the mirror had sallow skin and dark circles under her eyes.
This wasn't the same Claire who was so full of life and ambition at the design institute five years ago.
This was just a woman life had wrung dry.
I walked out of the bathroom, picked up my phone, and turned it back on.
There were dozens of missed calls, all from David.
And on WhatsApp, he'd sent me a flood of messages.
David: [Claire, please, let me explain.
[That photo was photoshopped. Jessica just wanted to mess with you.
[Nothing's going on between her and me.
[You're the only ones I care about, just you and Mom.
[Come on, turn your phone back on. I'm really worried about you.]
I scrolled through every message, not a flicker of emotion on my face.
Then I called my dad.
The phone barely rang before he picked up.
"Hey, Claire," he said. His voice was as steady as ever.
I opened my mouth, but it was like something was stuck in my throat.
All the pain and humiliation I'd bottled up for three years came flooding out at once.
At last, the tears came.
I didn't say a word. I just cried.
On the other end, my dad stayed silent, listening to me cry.
He didn't ask what was wrong, didn't tell me to stop crying.
He just listened.
He waited until my sobs faded into quiet sniffles before he finally spoke. His voice was calm, but there was a quiet authority in it that made me sit up and listen. "Claire, are you done crying?"
"Yeah," I replied, my voice hoarse.
"Then listen to me," he said.