Initially, it seemed like any other day.
Jake and I were in the kitchen preparing supper, giggling at his latest science project failure.

David’s phone buzzed on the counter, and a text message preview illuminated the screen: “Miss you already. Today was perfect.”

“Dad left his phone in the kitchen again,” Jake said, rolling his eyes. “I’ll take it upstairs to him.”

“I’ll do it,” I said, picking up the device.

With one click, there it was: a photo of my husband kissing another woman.

My fingers grew numb as I looked through more photos. They were relaxing on a beach together. Attending a concert. Each image was a new betrayal, a new stab in my heart.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” I held up his phone and displayed the texts and photographs on the screen.

“It’s not what you think,” he started, but I could see the lie forming in his eyes. “She’s just a colleague. We had a few drinks, things got out of hand…”

“Stop lying.” I scrolled through more messages.

Jake emerged in the kitchen doorway, attracted by our loud noises. “Mom? Dad? What’s going on?”

David’s countenance shifted as if a mask slipped. The guilt has fled, replaced by something tougher, colder.

“Fine. You want the truth? Yes, I’m seeing someone else. And you know what? I’m not sorry. Sarah makes me happy. Happier than I’ve been in years.”

The entire globe tilted. The corners of my vision became darker, and I felt myself waver. David’s phone fell as my fingers became numb.

I reached for the banister, but it slid away from me.

“Mom! Hold on, I’ve called 911!”

The hospital lights were too bright when I eventually opened my eyes. A doctor stood at the foot of my bed, her expression carefully masked with professional sympathy.

“Ma’am, you’ve had a bad fall. I’m sorry to tell you it caused severe trauma to your spinal cord.”

But nothing stung more than what happened afterward.

David arrived three days later, divorce papers in hand.

“Sarah and I are moving in together. Don’t call me again. My lawyer is going to handle everything from this point.”

The door clicked shut after him, sounding like a gunshot in the otherwise quiet room.

I was shortly discharged from the hospital. The next three weeks were a whirl of anguish and darkness.

Jake took over everything, including cooking, cleaning, and managing our finances.

“Mom,” he said one night, sitting on the edge of my bed. “You are still here. You’re still you. And if Dad left, that’s his loss — not ours. We don’t need him. We never did.”

His words cracked something deep within me, like a ray of light breaking through storm clouds.

The next morning, I let him help me get into my wheelchair.

I started small by working part-time in e-commerce customer service.

Jake handled photos and shipping, while I oversaw the internet storefront.

Two years have gone. Our small side project developed into a full-fledged enterprise. The pain never went gone altogether, but I learned to cope with it.

Jake graduated from high school with honors and decided to concentrate on our business rather than applying to college.

Our tale was then featured in a local newspaper. “Mother-Son Duo Builds Million-Dollar Empire from Home,” the title said.

I should’ve known David would notice it.

He arrived unannounced on a Saturday afternoon. Two years had aged him more than I had anticipated.

When Jake answered the door, David dropped to his knees.

“Sarah left me. I lost my job. I’ve been miserable without you both. Please, Anna. Give me another chance.”

“You don’t deserve a second chance,” I said eventually.

My hands clutched the arms of my wheelchair. The pain screamed through my nerves as I pushed myself higher, but I didn’t mind.

“Get out of here. Now!” I snarled.

Jake crossed the room and hugged me tightly. We did not need to say anything else. We had each other, and that was all.