I spent that weekend going through wedding photos and cards. I’d stored them all in a box in my closet and hadn’t looked at them since the first anniversary. I sat on my bedroom floor and went through each photo, each card, each momento from a day that was supposed to be the start of our future together. In the wedding photos, my husband looked happy and I looked hopeful.
Lily looked beautiful in her maid of honor dress. We all looked like people who believed in the promises being made. I read through the cards from friends and family wishing us a lifetime of happiness. I found the toast Lily had written about how glad she was that her mom finally found someone who made her smile again.
Looking at all of it with the knowledge I had now felt like watching a different person’s life. The future I’d imagined when I said I do had never existed outside my own hopeful imagination. The man I’d married wasn’t who I thought he was. Maybe he’d hidden his true nature during our dating years. Or maybe I’d been so desperate for partnership that I’d ignored the signs that were there all along.