Every Thanksgiving, My Fiancé ‘Traveled for Work’ – This Year, I Discovered the Terrible Truth

“Oliver begged for his godfather. He talks about Ethan constantly. He thinks your husband’s the strongest, bravest person in the world.”

A tear slipped down her cheek.

“How could Ethan say no to a dying child?”

I couldn’t answer.

Everything I thought I knew rearranged itself.

Ethan wasn’t cheating.

He wasn’t living a secret double life.

He was drowning in grief, guilt, and love.

And he’d been doing it alone.

“He should’ve told me.”

I walked back inside on shaky legs.

Ethan had settled on the couch with Oliver curled up against him, reading from a picture book about dinosaurs.

He looked up when I entered.

The fear in his eyes was raw, unguarded.

I crossed the room and knelt beside them.

Oliver peeked at me with curious eyes.

“Are you Uncle Ethan’s friend?” he asked in a small voice.

“Yeah, buddy. I am.”

Ethan’s hand trembled as he turned the page.

I waited until Claire had taken Oliver to wash up for dinner.

Then, I looked at Ethan… really looked at him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He set the book down carefully.

“I didn’t want you to see this.”

“See what?”

“Me like this. Them like this.” His voice dropped to almost a whisper.

“I didn’t want to ruin your Thanksgiving with all this grief and death.

I didn’t want you to think I loved another family more than I loved building one with you.”

He paused.

“I didn’t want to fall apart in front of you.”

For the first time in three years, I heard his voice shake.

“I’m sorry, Anna. I’m so sorry. I should’ve told you from the beginning.

I just didn’t know how to explain that I had made a promise to a dying man to love his son when he couldn’t anymore.”

Something inside me broke and mended at the same time.

“We’ll talk at home. Tonight.”

I finished the photo shoot on autopilot.

Before we left, Oliver insisted on giving me a crocheted turkey he’d made in art class.

“It’s not very good,” he said apologetically. “But Uncle Ethan says it’s the thought that counts.”

I hugged it to my chest.

“It’s perfect.

Thank you, sweetie.”

Ethan decided to leave his car there and ride home with me. We drove in complete silence.

Forty-five minutes of nothing but the hum of the engine and the weight of everything unsaid.

In our driveway, I finally turned to him.

“You should’ve told me.”

“I know.”

“I would’ve been there for you. For all of you.”Continue reading…