I sat on that sofa for 3 hours. I didn’t cry. Something inside me just went completely cold and flat.

I screenshotted every single photo. I saved the comments. I emailed them to myself.

Then, I went to the kitchen and started making dinner. I made pork chops, mashed potatoes, and green beans. His favorite.

When Mark came home from work, he kissed my cheek. He smelled like his usual cologne.

“Smells good, honey,” he said, setting his keys in the blue ceramic bowl on his dresser.

I didn’t say anything. I just nodded and served the plates.

We sat down. He took a bite of his pork chop.

That was when I unlocked my phone, opened Lisa’s profile, and slid it across the table. It stopped right next to his water glass.

Mark looked down. His fork hit the plate.

“She looks pretty good for a dead woman,” I said.

He didn’t look at me. He just stared at the photo of himself on the beach.

“Sarah,” he whispered. “Please. Let me explain.”

“I’m listening,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “Explain how a ghost managed to have a 12-year-old son with you.”

He swallowed hard. His face was the color of skim milk.

“Lisa didn’t die,” he stammered. “We broke up in college. But then, years later, she reached out. She was in a really bad place, Sarah. She had no money, no job, and she was pregnant.”

“With your child,” I pointed out.

“It was a mistake,” he cried, his voice cracking. “A one-time mistake right before we got married. I felt so guilty. I couldn’t just abandon her. I had to support them. I invented the car accident story because I was too terrified to tell you the truth.”

He looked up at me, his eyes begging for mercy.

“I only did it to protect you,” he said.

I let out a short, sharp laugh. It was the most ridiculous thing I had ever heard.

“To protect me?” I asked. “You let me pay for your therapy. You let me use my grandmother’s inheritance to pay our mortgage while you were secretly paying for her apartment in Grand Rapids.”

He didn’t deny it. He couldn’t.

“And your mother?” I continued. “She knew too?”

He looked down at his lap, nodding slowly.

“Everyone knew,” I said. “Except for the woman paying the bills.”

I stood up from the table. My legs felt heavy, but steady.