Chapter 1

I found a drawer full of plane tickets in my wife's desk. Behind every single one, there was a photo.

It turned out her monthly business trips were a lie. For fifty years, she had been flying two thousand miles across the country just to see him.

She kept this up from the age of twenty-five to seventy-five. Half a century of betrayal.

To make matters worse, the daughter I raised for decades isn't even mine. She belongs to him―the love of her life.

I laughed. I laughed until the tears wouldn't stop.

For fifty years, I slaved away for this family. I even took on manual labor after retiring. I'm seventy-five, and I'm still out there sweeping streets.

I did it all so she could live like a queen.

Now, I realize she never deserved a single bit of my kindness.

1.

A drawer full of tickets made me freeze for a few seconds.

They were arranged so neatly. It was clear the owner cherished them.

I picked one up. It was from fifty years ago, a flight from Austin to Chicago.

That was the year Helen and I got married.

Back then, I had a stable job, and we were comfortable. But we weren't wealthy enough to justify flying.

Flying wasn't common in those days, and tickets were incredibly expensive.

What was she doing in Chicago?

As the thought crossed my mind, I noticed something on the back of the ticket. A photo was taped there.

It was taken in the dead of winter.

A twenty-five-year-old Helen was snuggled into the arms of a young man in a black leather coat.

Both of them were beaming. They looked genuinely happy.

I leaned against the desk, my breath hitching in my chest. I scrambled for my pills and swallowed two just to keep from collapsing.

I went through the rest of the drawer.

I don't know how long I sat there. The sun was up when I started, and it was pitch black by the time I reached the last one.

The last ticket was from the middle of last month. The photo was taken at a famous landmark in Chicago.

Same pose. Same smile.

From twenty-five to seventy-five.

For fifty years, Helen's business trips were just excuses to see her first love, Silas.

Every photo had a note written on the back.

She wrote: "Today Silas took me to get that deep-dish pizza he loves. I still hate it, but I'm so happy."

"Silas says he can't let me go. He wants us to be together, but I'm already married."

"I can't let go of Silas either. I told him I'm pregnant. It's his baby."

"I had a daughter. Silas and I have a child together. I'm so happy."

"Our daughter got married today."

"I told Silas we have a grandson now."

"Fifty years with my Silas."

I clutched my chest, nearly fainting.

So the daughter I raised for decades belongs to someone else.

My grandson belongs to someone else.

Even the wife I loved for fifty years belongs to another man.

I was nothing more than a name on a marriage certificate.

Haha. What a joke.

Tears blurred my vision as the ticket slipped from my fingers back into the drawer.

A whole drawer of tickets, laughing at the pathetic excuse for a life I've lived.