Chapter 1
My husband, Lance Moore, was the youngest professor at the university.
After five years of marriage, he was heading abroad for a three-year academic exchange.
I went to the airport to see him off. He held me tight, his eyes red.
"When I get back, we'll have a baby," he said.
Three years later, I had been counting down the days and finally went to his university, planning to surprise him.
But I was stopped by his star student, Elina Dunn.
She looked at me with sympathy in her eyes. "Are you Ms. Freeman?"
I nodded with a smile.
After a moment's hesitation, she finally spoke up, "Professor Moore is on funeral leave.
"His wife passed away in a car accident last week."
I was hit like a ton of bricks, frozen in place.
Elina went on, "She left behind a four-year-old son. It's heartbreaking."
*****
My mind was buzzing, and I could barely register what Elina was saying.
I just caught the words like funeral leave, wife, car accident, and a four-year-old son.
Each word was like a knife, cutting right into my heart.
I was Lance's wife, Gabriela Freeman.
We'd been married for five years. I was alive. I was right here.
Seeing how pale I looked, Elina thought I was devastated.
She reached out to support me, worried I might collapse.
She asked, "Ms. Freeman, are you okay?
"Professor Moore's wife's memorial service is in the school auditorium. Would you like to go?"
Before I realized it, I nodded, as if on autopilot.
It felt like all the strength had left my body. I just followed her, numb, like a ghost.
The auditorium was shrouded in a heavy silence.
Flowers were around the place, and right in the center stood a big portrait of a woman.
She looked young, her eyes soft and her smile gentle.
I had no idea who she was.
Next to the photo, I saw Lance standing there.
He wore a formal black suit, a white flower pinned to his chest.
He looked thinner, gaunt, and utterly exhausted.
His eyes were hollow, and a shadow of stubble darkened his chin.
In his arms was a little boy dressed in a miniature suit. The boy's features were unmistakably Lance's.
Lance looked devastated. I'd never seen him like this.
It was the kind of heartbreak that could eat a person alive, threatening to swallow him whole.
He bent down, whispering gentle words to the little boy clinging to him.
All around me were faces I knew well.
They were his colleagues, our friends, and even Jefferson Huffman, who had officiated our wedding.
One by one, they stepped forward, patted Lance on the shoulder, and murmured their condolences.
No one noticed me.
To them, I was just an outsider, someone who didn't matter.
I stood at the back of the crowd, completely out of place.
I watched my husband, grieving for another woman as if his world had ended.
I watched him cradle the child he had with her in his arms.
It felt like an invisible hand was crushing my heart, the pain so intense that I could barely breathe.
It turned out those three years weren't about some academic exchange abroad after all.
He just switched cities, got himself a new home, and a new wife.
And he had a son, too.
Meanwhile, I was the idiot, waiting at home like some lovesick fool, still believing he'd come back to me.
After the service, people started drifting away.
Lance cradled the boy in his arms and turned to leave.
Finally, I managed to get my voice back and slowly made my way toward him, step by step.
My heels clacked loudly on the polished floor, the sharp sound cutting through the silence.
Lance heard the noise and looked up.
The moment Lance saw me, the grief on his face stopped cold.
In its place was utter shock and frantic panic.
The little boy in Lance's arms, Kason, felt him stiffen and looked up, asking in a small voice, "Daddy, what's wrong?"
Lance's lips moved, his Adam's apple bobbing as he tried to find his voice.
He stared at me as if he'd just seen a ghost.
"Gaby?" Lance managed, barely above a whisper.
His voice was hoarse, trembling ever so slightly.
The people who were still hanging around all turned to stare, curious about what was going on.
Lance snapped out of it and handed Kason to Jefferson Huffman, who was standing nearby.
"Mr. Huffman, could you watch Kason for me?" Lance asked.
He came straight over to me, grabbed my wrist firmly, and pulled me out to a quiet spot just outside the auditorium.
His grip was so strong that I winced in pain.
"How did you end up here?" Lance asked, his voice low and edged with disbelief and accusation.
I looked at him, and he felt utterly unfamiliar, as if I didn't know him at all.
I wondered this was the same Lance who used to call me Gaby with such tenderness, who'd tell me bedtime stories.
I shook off his hand and glared at him coldly. "Why can't I be here?"