Part 2: I discovered my husband was having an affair with my best friend while we were all on the same airplane—and neither of them knew I was there. Instead of confronting them, I sent a small, beautifully wrapped gift to their seats.

The other—

Ryan's old anniversary bracelet.

I stared at Ethan.

“Where did you get this?”

“Dad.”

My chest tightened.

“He wants it back?”

“No.”

“He said it was yours.”

I touched the metal.

Inside the anniversary bracelet was the engraving Ryan had chosen eighteen years earlier:

ALWAYS, R.

I almost laughed.

Always had turned out to be an ambitious word.

Then I saw the new engraving on a tiny silver plate between the bracelets.

Ethan had joined them together inside a shadow box.

Underneath:

THESE DIDN'T MEAN WHAT YOU THOUGHT FOREVER.

THEY STILL MEANT SOMETHING ONCE.

I cried.

Ethan sat beside me.

“I thought maybe you should stop keeping them in drawers like evidence.”

I looked at my son.

“When did you become emotionally intelligent?”

“Therapy.”

“Expensive but useful.”

He smiled.

Then became serious.

“Mom?”

“Yes?”

“I'm glad you didn't make us hate Dad.”

My throat tightened.

“I was angry enough.”