They say their father made a terrible mistake, but that the forty-five years we shared were real, too.
And I know Robert loved me.
We survived difficult years together, raised our children, and stood beside each other through illnesses, losses, and countless hardships.
But now, every time I look at our wedding photograph, I remember that other picture.
The woman who had loved him, too.
And the child whose existence had been kept from me for my entire marriage.
Yesterday, Robert left our wedding album outside my front door.
On the first page, he had written:
“If I could live my life again, I would tell you everything on the very first day. Even if it meant losing you.”
I sat on the couch for hours, staring at those words.
I still don’t know whether I’ll ever be able to trust him again.
But there is one thing I know for certain.
