At work, Jessica arrived visibly upset; the day before, she’d finalized her divorce. Her colleagues were all aware of her situation and, noticing her disheveled demeanor, offered their support as best they could.
“Jess, what happened that made you get a divorce? It’s nothing to fret about – you’re neither the first nor the last. You’re strong, and you’ll raise your boys well. Your ex will regret it. Keep your spirits up,” encouraged Emily, who had been through a divorce herself five years earlier.
“Emily’s got a point,” chimed in Claire. “Men tend to think their exes will fall apart without them. But if they see their former wife looking groomed and cheerful, it gets under their skin to see her thriving. So, keep your chin up, Jess, and everything will be okay!”
Jessica nodded in agreement with her colleagues, though in her heart, she pondered, “It’s easy for them to talk, but how am I supposed to manage on one salary with two boys, especially when they love their father? I guess I’ll have to get used to it.”
Jessica had divorced her husband, Tom, after a decade of marriage. One day, Tom had come home from work and said, “I’m leaving you for another woman. Our family doesn’t exist for me anymore; I don’t love you. Something has changed.”
“Found yourself a younger one, did you? You’re no different than other men…”
“It’s not a younger woman,” Tom interrupted. “I’m leaving for a woman with two children.”
“So, you abandon your own kids to take care of someone else’s? Don’t come back. I won’t forgive you,” Jessica replied as calmly as she could, inwardly vowing, “He won’t see me cry, traitor.”
The tears came after he slammed the door behind him. As she calmed down, she thought, “How could this happen? Tom left me for a woman with two children, whose husband also left her for someone else. It’s astonishing how it all turned out; apparently, we’re in the same boat. But the woman he left for should have understood how hard it is to be alone with two kids, yet she didn’t care. Didn’t she have other choices? Now we live in the same neighborhood, and the kids see Tom often.”
Jessica had no time to dwell on herself or sit and cry; she needed to care for her sons. Their father hadn’t called them or asked how they were doing since he left. She didn’t know how to explain it to the children. Once, they saw him on the street and rushed over: “Dad, Dad!” they shouted, only to wait for him at home in the evening.
That evening, Jessica had a long talk with them, distracting them from thoughts of their father, though they still expected his return. Jessica’s patience wore thin, and the next day she called her ex.
“Could you at least visit or take the kids out? You divorced me, not them. You can meet them after school; they’re not responsible for your new life. How do I explain this to them?”
Tom listened silently, then ended the call. Jessica finally understood that he wasn’t interested in being a father. Time passed, and the boys grew accustomed to life without their dad. They even stopped mentioning him, and when they occasionally crossed paths, they scarcely acknowledged him.
Jessica filled her time by keeping the kids busy. Weekends were spent at parks, cinemas, and museums. On cold days at home, aware of their sadness, she’d engage them in activities. Together, they’d bake, with her providing the dough and telling them, “Create whatever you imagine.”
The boys eagerly made animal shapes, cubes, and balls. After baking, they’d proudly find and eat their “masterpieces,” sharing with each other and their mom. Life was tough for Jessica, hard on the kids, but she moved forward, focusing on raising her sons. Thankfully, they did well in school, and the teachers praised them at parent meetings.
One winter evening, Jessica hurried home and slipped near her house. A man quickly approached, having leapt out of his car, to help her up. Her grocery bag lay nearby, miraculously intact. He picked it up and handed it to her.
“Good evening,” he said warmly.
“Not so good if I’m falling,” she retorted, though she quickly corrected herself, “Hello, and thank you.”
Seeing her rubbing a sore knee, the man offered, “Need help with your leg?”
“I don’t think so. It’s just a bit sore. At least it’s not broken.”
“How about a lift?” he persisted. “Don’t be shy or worry. I’m Stephen. I happened to be here, maybe knowing you’d fall!” he joked.
Jessica managed a smile, “No, thank you. That’s my building; I can make it.”
Stephen watched until she disappeared into the entrance.
A couple of days later, Jessica spotted Stephen again near her building, holding a bouquet.
“Is it a good evening today, Jessica?”
“Yes, it’s good today,” she beamed back.
“Then this is for you,” he handed her the flowers.
“Thank you, but what’s the occasion?”
“There isn’t one, just to brighten your day. I missed seeing you and thought to check in case you needed rescuing again,” he chuckled.
“Thanks, but as you see, I’m walking fine today,” Jessica laughed.
One conversation led to another, and Stephen invited her to a café.
“I can’t tonight, Stephen. My boys are waiting for me, and I didn’t tell them I might be late. Can we do it tomorrow instead?”
“Sure, let’s plan for tomorrow. Where do you work? Make sure to let your boys know. I get it; I had two of my own—once,” Stephen replied.
The next day, in the café, Stephen opened up.
“I had a wife, and we had two sons. They went to the countryside for the weekend while I stayed behind, caught up in work. On their way back, they were in an accident in blizzard conditions. Everyone was killed. That was six years ago. I’ve been on my own since,” Stephen ended with a sad note.
“Oh, what an ordeal to endure. Losing your whole family at once. I’m so sorry you had to recount it.”
“It’s alright, I’ve made peace with it. Those first three years were tough. I’ve been longing for a close-knit family ever since. It’s hard to find.”
“I thought my situation was tough when Tom left for another woman, but this…“
Jessica felt deeply moved by Stephen’s story and empathized as though she’d experienced it herself, internally praying, “Please, let everyone stay safe and sound.”
Jessica and Stephen continued dating, and soon, Stephen realized that she and her sons could give him the family he longed for. Jessica’s boys took to him, monopolizing their evenings together, which Stephen and Jessica both enjoyed. Jessica watched with tenderness as her sons eagerly engaged with Stephen, sharing news and adventures.
Finally, Stephen proposed.
“I’ve been waiting for this, dear. Of course, I will marry you!” Jessica exclaimed, glowing with joy.
Time went by, and they settled into family life. Sadly, Jessica couldn’t have more children, but Stephen embraced her sons as his own, and her colleagues noted:
“It feels like we’ve always been together, as if there never was a previous husband, or that the kids didn’t come from Stephen.”
Years later, out of the blue, Tom called. Aware of Jessica’s new life, he had seen her around with Stephen, clearly happy. He suggested giving things another go. Jessica laughed.
“Now, after I’ve brushed off my sadness and begun to glow with happiness, you think I’d come back? I’ve already forgotten you exist. I am blissfully happy with Stephen. We’ve moved on, even the boys, who now call Stephen ‘Dad.’ You are irrelevant to us. Don’t call again.”
“But I’m not happy without you all,” Tom began, but Jessica interrupted.
“We’re better off now. Goodbye!”
Jessica mused that had he reached out years earlier, she might have welcomed his call, but the time had long passed. She recalled her colleagues’ words: that some men can’t bear to see their exes happy without them, and some men, despite a divorce, falsely believe their ex-wives remain theirs, unable to fathom them finding love again.
