Rebecca came into my life long before the marriage, which is part of why the betrayal cut so deep. We met in college, in a sociology class we both hated. She sat behind me and whispered jokes during the professor’s lectures. She was magnetic—pretty, confident, the kind of woman who made strangers feel like they’d known her forever. When I was with Rebecca, life moved faster. Everything became a story.
She cried at my wedding. She held my bouquet when I started shaking before I walked down the aisle. She whispered, “You deserve this,” like she was blessing me. After Marcus and I said our vows, she hugged me so tight I could barely breathe and told me, “If he ever hurts you, I’ll bury him.”
She said it with a laugh, but I believed her. Because I believed she was my person.
Then Emma arrived. Motherhood cracked my world open and poured love into it until I thought I might drown. Marcus was tender with her from the beginning. He changed diapers without being asked. He learned how to swaddle like a nurse. He walked the hallway at three a.m. with Emma on his shoulder, humming off-key while I cried from exhaustion.