My Husband Planned A Romantic Anniversary Trip To The Blue Mountains. Then I Overheard Him At 3:10 Am Planning My “accidental” Death. How Do I Survive This Drive?

I felt a slight pang in my heart, but only that. My father-in-law looked at me and said in a low voice,

“I dare not ask you to forgive him. He closed all the doors himself. I just want you not to embitter your life by hating him,” he said.

I looked up and met his eyes.

“I don’t hate him anymore, Dad. I just don’t feel anything for him anymore,” I said.

He nodded very slightly. When my father-in-law left, Ethan ran after him and gave him a piece of candy.

“Here, Grandpa,” he said.

My father-in-law stopped. He bent down to take the candy with a trembling hand and thanked him. His stooped back disappeared into the rain. I stood at the door for a long time. That night I asked Ethan,

“Did you like Grandpa?” I asked.

“Yes. He was sad,” he said with a childish sincerity that made me think.

Months later, through my father-in-law, Liam sent me a letter. The handwriting was shaky, not as neat as it used to be.

“Emily, I dare not ask for your forgiveness. I just want to say that I have understood what it means to pay for your actions. Every night in prison, I dream of you and the boy, but I know it’s a dream I no longer have the right to. I just hope you are both well,” he wrote.

I finished reading and folded the letter slowly. I did not reply, not out of resentment, but because I knew our paths were now different. There are things that once broken cannot be put back together. On Ethan’s first day of school, he did not want to let go of my hand.

“Mom, come with me,” he said.

“Go into class. Mom will wait for you at the door,” I said.

He pressed his lips together and with teary eyes went in. When the door closed, I stood in the hallway, feeling like a small part of me was leaving my side. That night Chloe showed up at the store.

“Emily, have you thought about rebuilding your life?” she asked.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I mean a woman has the right to be happy a second time,” she said.

I laughed.

“I’m already happy,” I said.

She looked at me for a long time and nodded.

“Yes, happy in your own way,” she said.

That night I held Ethan as he slept, feeling an immense peace. I no longer feared the night, no longer startled at secret calls. I no longer lived in a huge, cold house. I lived in a small, warm one. There are scars that never disappear, but you learn to live with them without them hurting. Liam was a scar in my life, but Ethan was the warmth that covered it every day. I walked out of hell on my own two feet, and now I was walking a different path, without luxury or wealth, but where I was free to be a mother, to be a person.

18 years later, on the day Ethan received his university acceptance letter, the sun was beautiful.

“Mom, I got in!” he shouted from the doorway, letter in hand.

I ran to him, my hands trembling more than his.

“Really?” I asked.

“Yes, in computer engineering,” he said.

I hugged him and for the first time in many years I cried like a child. That night Ethan sat beside me on the porch.

“Mom, I want to ask you something. What was my father like?” he asked.

I was silent for a long time.

“Your father was once the person I trusted most,” I said.

“Are you angry with him?” he asked.

I smiled slightly.

“I used to be. Now I can’t be,” I said.

I turned to look at him; his face looked so much like Liam’s in that moment.

“Do you want to see him?” I asked.

He nodded very seriously.

“I don’t want to blame anyone. I just want to know where I come from,” he said.

I took a deep breath.

“If you want to, I won’t stop you,” I said.

The visit to the prison was on a morning of light rain. When Liam came out, I barely recognized him. He was much thinner, with slumped shoulders and premature wrinkles. But when he saw Ethan, his eyes lit up.