Ethan was getting married again.
He’d had an affair with a woman from his firm, moved out while I was still trying to explain to our son why his father suddenly “needed space,” and spent the following year pretending his betrayal was some kind of brave reinvention. Child support came late—if at all. School events were missed. His messages were vague and convenient: “We should focus on moving forward.”
And yet, barely six months after our divorce was finalized, he invited us to his wedding at a country club outside Dallas.
Not just me.
Our son too.
At first, I laughed. Then I nearly threw the invitation away.
But my son, Noah, found it on the counter and asked quietly, “Are we really invited?”
I told him yes.
He stared at the envelope for a while before saying, “I want to go.”
