I confronted Christopher that night.
“Your mother is trying to introduce you to another woman.”
He looked genuinely surprised.
“What?”
“Her friend's daughter.”
Christopher laughed softly.
“Shelley, come on. My mother wouldn't do that.”
“She already is.”
His expression changed, but only slightly.
“She probably means it innocently.”
“Innocently?”
I felt tears burning my eyes.
“She treats me like a stranger in our own home, Christopher. And now she's looking for someone to replace me.”
He reached for my hands.
“You're my wife. Nobody is replacing you.”
“Then why does she act like I'm temporary?”
He had no answer.
But he promised he'd talk to her.
For the first time in weeks, I thought maybe he understood.
Then Saturday arrived.
Christopher told me he had an important business dinner.
I stayed home alone.
Until I received a message from an unknown number.
There was a photograph attached.
Christopher was sitting at a restaurant.
Across from him was a beautiful young woman.
And standing behind them, smiling proudly, was his mother.
