Paul noticed it during dinner. Jenna smiled and nodded when he spoke, but said nothing about her work at the news agency.
“How was the board meeting?”
“Fine.” She sipped her wine.
In ten years of marriage, Jenna had never been this quiet. She was ambitious, driven, always talkative about business. Something had changed.
He called her at lunch. “Can we meet at the café?”
“Can’t today. Big deadline.”
Days later: “How about Thursday?”
“Back-to-back meetings. Maybe next week?”
The excuses continued.
Paul left work early and drove to her office. At 12:30, Jenna emerged with a young man, maybe twenty, poorly dressed. They walked to a restaurant.
Through the window, Paul watched them laugh and talk, Jenna animated and engaged.
Days later, he followed again. The young man hugged her too long. When they pulled apart, he kept his hand on her arm.
Paul’s blood boiled.
That night: “You’ve been different. Distant. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. You’re being paranoid.”
“Who’s the young man you’ve been having lunch with?”
Jenna went pale, then angry. “You’ve been stalking me?”
“Why won’t you talk to me anymore?”
“We’ll talk later.” She grabbed her purse and left, slamming the door.
The next morning, Paul followed them to her office. He burst through her door.
Jenna jumped up. The young man stood by the window.
“How long has this been going on?”
“You need to leave—”
Paul grabbed the young man and shoved him. He hit the desk and fell.
“Stop!” Jenna screamed.
The young man scrambled up. “I’m her son!”
Paul froze. “What?”
Paul turned to Jenna. “Tell me he’s lying.”
“His name is Daniel. I was twenty, pregnant in college. I had goals. I left him with a neighbor who took custody for money.”
“Where have you been?” Paul asked Daniel.
“Living in poverty. Her kids were cruel. I always wanted to find my mother. I started looking two years ago. Found her three months ago.”
Paul stared at Jenna. “Three months and you didn’t tell me? We could have helped him.”
“I’m at the top of my career. I don’t have time for motherly affections.”
“He’s your son!”
She lowered her voice. “I’m not sure he’s here for me. Maybe he’s here for my money.”
Paul jerked back, staring at this stranger. “He grew up in poverty because of you. And now you think he’s just after money?”
“I love you. Please—”
“How can you love me if you don’t love your own son? I’m leaving you.”
He turned to Daniel. “You’re welcome in my home. But I can’t stay married to someone who could do this.”
“Paul, wait!”
He was already gone.
Paul sat in his car, hands gripping the steering wheel. Ten years with a woman who’d hidden her own child. Who’d let that child suffer rather than disrupt her ambitions.
His phone buzzed. Jenna calling. He declined it.
A text: “We need to talk. Please.”
Another: “I made mistakes. I know. But I love you. We can work through this.”
Paul typed back: “You don’t get to choose your career over your son for twenty years and then choose me when it’s convenient. Daniel deserves better. You’re on your own.”
Three weeks later, Paul signed the divorce papers. Daniel moved into his guest room while Paul helped him enroll in community college and find a job.
Jenna tried calling several times. Paul never answered.
She’d chosen her career over her son. And when that son finally found her, she’d chosen her comfort over his pain.
Some choices couldn’t be forgiven. Some hearts couldn’t be changed. And some truths, once revealed, shattered everything beyond repair.