Chapter 3

3.

Not long after they left, Joanna’s mother, Evelyn, called my phone.

“Today is Kian’s birthday, after all! Kicking out all his friends like that―how is he supposed to face his classmates at private school tomorrow?”

Evelyn made no attempt to hide her disgust with me.

“Stop dragging an innocent child into your adult drama!”

She had always known about the lingering shadow of Sullivan between Joanna and me.

In fact, she had actively encouraged Joanna to divorce me for Sullivan’s sake.

Sullivan was the son of Evelyn’s first love.

Because of that old flame, she was desperate for Joanna to marry him.

A week ago, Sullivan was set to marry a wealthy heiress for financial security.

On the morning of their wedding, Evelyn had called Joanna in a frenzy.

“If you don’t stop him right now, Sullivan will be someone else’s husband!”

She told Joanna not to hesitate.

“You don’t owe Silas Campbell a damn thing! If he hadn’t gotten in the way, you two would have been married years ago!”

Joanna and I had ended up in a shotgun wedding.

One night, she got blackout drunk, mistook me for Sullivan, and spent a reckless night in my bed.

By then, Sullivan had already left the country.

“Even though Silas grew up right next door to you, I’ve never liked him!”

“Joanna, I know you’ve wanted out of this marriage forever. Why else would you be meeting with divorce lawyers?”

I had overheard every single word Evelyn said to Joanna that day.

Yet, I had pretended to know nothing.

When Joanna stepped out of her study back then, she told me she had to leave.

“Where are you going?”

That was the only question I asked.

Her face instantly turned frosty.

“Do I need to report every meal I eat and everywhere I go to you now?”

“No, that’s not what I meant...”

I rushed forward to explain myself, but she shoved me hard down the flight of stairs.

I blacked out instantly.

When I woke up, I was already lying in a sterile hospital bed.

Sullivan’s wedding, as expected, never happened.

During the days I lay hospitalized with a concussion, Joanna took Kian and flew to Iceland with Sullivan.

They visited Skógafoss waterfall, walked along the black sand beaches collecting glacial ice, and explored downtown Reykjavik together.

Joanna, who hadn’t posted on social media in years, shared dozens of updates during that trip.

In her photos, Kian was beaming with radiant joy.

And right alongside him were cozy, intimate pictures of her and Sullivan.

I admit I was jealous.

Joanna and I had never even taken official wedding photos.

She claimed she was swamped with corporate work, leaving all the wedding preparations entirely to me.

For the few photos we needed, she simply told me to photoshop our faces together.

Even though Joanna treated me like air, I had continued to track her every move.

When she and our son returned to the States, they never offered a single word of genuine care. Yet I still rushed out of the hospital early, desperate to make it to Kian’s birthday party.

In the end, I was nothing but a pathetic joke.

Looking out the window at the empty lawn, I picked up my phone and sent Joanna a text.

“Let’s get a divorce.”