In 2014, when he said his grief-induced depression was making it too hard to focus at work, he lost his job. I didn’t panic.

I used the inheritance my grandmother left me to pay our mortgage for 8 months.

I paid for his private grief therapy sessions. I paid for his wellness retreats.

And every single November, Mark would take a solo trip.

He called it his “grief weekend.” He said he needed to drive up to Michigan, sit by her grave, and clear his head.

I packed his bags for those trips. I made him turkey sandwiches and put them in a cooler for the drive. I kissed his forehead and told him to drive safely.

I did this for 14 years.

Then came a random Tuesday evening.

I was sitting on our worn living room sofa, half-watching a home renovation show. I opened Facebook on my phone to scroll through local marketplace listings.

Right there, under “People You May Know,” was a face that looked hauntingly familiar.

It was Lisa.

I knew her face because Mark kept a faded, scanned photo of her from college in his dresser drawer. But this woman wasn’t 20 years old. She was in her early 40s.

And her profile picture was Mark.

My brain genuinely stopped working for a few seconds. I just sat there, staring at the screen. I felt sick to my stomach.

I clicked her profile. It wasn’t locked.

I scrolled. And scrolled. And scrolled.

There were over 200 photos.

There was Mark and Lisa at a steakhouse in Grand Rapids.

There was Mark and Lisa at a waterpark.

And then, there was a photo of a young boy holding up a soccer trophy. He looked to be about 12 years old. He had Mark’s exact blue eyes. He had Mark’s cowlick.

I did the math in my head. If the boy was 12, he was conceived in 2011.

That was the exact year Mark and I got engaged. We were picking out flowers while he was starting a family with a dead woman.

I clicked on the soccer photo. There was a comment under it from Gail.

Gail is my mother-in-law.

“So proud of my grandson!” Gail had written, followed by 3 heart emojis.

My hands were shaking so badly I almost dropped the phone.

His mother knew. His sister had commented on the vacation photos too. They had all known. They had simply blocked me from seeing their friend lists and posts.