The woman who had shared my bed, raised our children, packed lunches, folded laundry, laughed at bad TV shows, and kissed me goodnight for twenty years.
And somehow, she had carried a secret so beautiful that even I had never known it.
Mike wiped his face with the back of his hand.
“I came here every week because my daughter is alive because of her,” he said. “And I never got the chance to tell her thank you while she was still here.”
I looked down at Emily’s name.
For months, I had been angry at this man.
Jealous of his grief.
Suspicious of his silence.
But now, sitting beside him at her grave, I realized something that broke me in a completely different way.
I hadn’t discovered a betrayal.
I had discovered a part of my wife’s heart that was even bigger than I knew.
END.
