Christopher came home after midnight.
I was sitting in the dark.
“You lied to me,” I whispered.
He froze.
Then I showed him the photograph.
His face fell.
“Shelley…”
“You said it was a business dinner.”
“It was supposed to be.”
“Your mother was there.”
He stared at the picture.
For once, he didn't defend her.
The next morning, his mother arrived without knocking.
She walked straight into the house and announced, “I've made arrangements for Christopher to see her again next weekend.”
Christopher stood behind me.
“Who?”
His mother smiled.
“You know exactly who.”
“No,” he said quietly. “I don't.”
She looked at him.
Then at me.
“She would make a better wife.”
The room went completely silent.
Christopher's expression hardened.
“You've been trying to replace my wife?”
His mother shrugged.
“I was trying to help you.”
Christopher turned toward me.
I expected anger.
Instead, I saw something I'd been waiting months to see.
He finally understood.
Then he took my hand.
“Shelley, pack a bag.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
His answer changed everything.
