I read my mother's letter again.
Then once more.
The words had not changed.
Ask Damon why he needed your father to approve the marriage before Marissa found out.
I looked at Damon.
“What did my father approve?”
He remained silent.
Jake stood beside me.
“Dad?”
Damon sat down on the bench near the restaurant entrance.
For the first time that evening, he looked old.
Not older.
Old.
His shoulders sagged.
His hands rested between his knees.
“I never wanted this to come out this way,” he said.
I folded the letter carefully.
“How did you want it to come out?”
He looked at me.
“Never.”
The honesty hurt.
At least it was honest.
I sat across from him.
Jake remained standing nearby.
“Start at the beginning.”
Damon looked toward the restaurant.
Our dinner was still visible through the glass.
The cake sat unfinished on the table.
My birthday candles had melted into small pools of wax.
A ridiculous detail to notice at a moment like this.
But I noticed it anyway.
Damon took a breath.
“I was involved with Marissa before I met you.”
“I know.”
“Your father knew.”
My heart tightened.
“How?”
“He found out.”
“Did you tell him?”
“No.”
“Then how?”
Damon looked down.
“Marissa contacted him.”
I stared.
“She contacted my father?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I told her I couldn't marry her.”
I felt something cold move through me.
“And then?”
“She told your father I had promised to leave you.”
I shook my head.
“I hadn't even married you yet.”
“I know.”
“Then why were you talking about leaving me?”
Damon closed his eyes.
“Because I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
“Losing you.”
I almost laughed.
“You were afraid of losing me while planning to leave me?”
“I was twenty-five.”
“So was I.”
He looked at me.
“I loved you.”
“But you loved her too.”
“Yes.”
The answer was devastating precisely because he didn't try to soften it.
I looked away.
Jake's voice came quietly.
“Then why did you marry Mom?”
Damon looked at his oldest son.
“Because I chose her.”
Jake shook his head.
“That doesn't explain the letters.”
“No.”
Damon rubbed his hands together.
“It doesn't.”
I waited.
He finally continued.
“Your father told me that if I married you, I had to stop contacting Marissa completely.”
I stared at him.
“My father knew?”
“He knew everything.”
“Did he threaten you?”
Damon shook his head.
“No.”
“Then what did he do?”
“He told me something I never forgot.”
Damon looked at me.
“He said if I couldn't give your daughter a clean marriage, I shouldn't marry her.”
I swallowed.
“Your daughter?”
He corrected himself.
“His daughter.”
The distinction hurt.
My father had apparently been trying to protect me while I knew nothing.
“What happened to Marissa?”
“She left the state.”
“When?”
“Three weeks before our wedding.”
“And you never contacted her again?”
Damon hesitated.
“I wrote once.”
My stomach tightened.
“You wrote to her?”
“After the wedding.”
“What did you say?”
“I told her I was sorry.”
“Did she answer?”
“No.”
Jake asked, “Then why did she write those letters?”
Damon looked at him.
“Because those letters were written before the wedding.”
“Did you promise her you would leave Mom?”
Damon looked down.
“Yes.”
The word was almost inaudible.
I closed my eyes.
For years, I had believed our marriage had begun with two people choosing each other.
Now I understood there had been another woman standing at the edge of that beginning.
Someone Damon had promised something to.
Someone my mother knew about.
Someone my father had tried to protect me from.
I stood.
“I need air.”
Jake immediately followed me.
Damon remained seated.
Outside the restaurant, the rain had started again.
Fine drops gathered on the shoulders of my dress.
Jake opened his umbrella.
I shook my head.
“Let it.”
“Mom.”
“I don't care.”
He lowered the umbrella.
We walked toward the sidewalk.
After a moment, Jake said, “I'm sorry.”
“You didn't do this.”
“I should have told you six months ago.”
“Why didn't you?”
“Because I was scared.”
“Of what?”
“That it would destroy you.”
I looked at him.
“It didn't destroy me.”
He gave me a sad smile.
“It changed everything.”
“Yes.”
We stopped beneath a streetlamp.
The emerald dress was darkening at the hem from the wet pavement.
I looked down at it.
“Do you know why I bought this?”
Jake shook his head.
“I wanted one night where I didn't feel invisible.”
He looked at me.
“You weren't invisible.”
“I know that now.”
Behind us, the restaurant door opened.
Ethan stepped outside.
Then Noah.
They came toward us without speaking.
Ethan held out my coat.
“You'll catch cold.”
I smiled.
“Thank you.”
Noah looked at Jake.
“What happened?”
Jake shook his head.
“Mom found out about Marissa.”
Ethan's expression fell.
“You found her name?”
I nodded.
Noah asked, “Who is Marissa?”
I looked at my three sons.
For years, I had tried to protect them from adult problems.
Tonight, they were protecting me from them.
“She was someone your father loved before we married.”
Nobody spoke.
Then Ethan asked quietly, “Did Dad cheat?”
I considered the question.
“No.”
The answer surprised even me.
“Not after we married.”
I looked back at the restaurant.
“But he brought something unfinished into our marriage.”
Jake nodded.
“That matters.”
“Yes.”
We stood there beneath the rain.
Then Noah said, “What are you going to do?”
I looked at him.
“I don't know.”
It was the first time in twenty-five years I had allowed myself to say those words without immediately following them with a plan.
I didn't know.
And that was okay.
When we returned inside, Damon was still sitting at the table.
He looked at me.
“Elena.”
I sat down.
“I have one more question.”
He nodded.
“Did you ever think about leaving me after we were married?”
He stared at me.
Then he answered.
“No.”
I searched his face.
“Not once?”
“Not after Jake was born.”
The answer was complicated.
Not comforting.
But real.
“You should have told me about her.”
“Yes.”
“You should have told me about my mother's letter.”
“Yes.”
“You should have trusted me with the truth.”
“Yes.”
He looked exhausted.
“I was afraid that if I told you, you would look at our entire marriage differently.”
I nodded.
“I do.”
He closed his eyes.
“I know.”
I stood again.
Damon looked up.
“Where are you going?”
I looked toward my sons.
“Home.”
He started to rise.
“Can I come?”
I paused.
For twenty-five years, the answer would have been automatic.
Tonight, it wasn't.
“I don't know.”
He stopped.
I walked toward the door.
Jake followed.
Then Ethan.
Then Noah.
Behind us, Damon remained standing beside the birthday table.
The cake was still there.
The candles were burned down to their wicks.
My fifty-year-old self walked out into the rain wearing the dress my husband had laughed at.
But I no longer felt embarrassed by it.
I felt strangely calm.
The dress had never been the problem.
It had only revealed one.
And as I stepped into the car with my sons, I looked at the second envelope resting in my lap.
My mother's letter had opened a door.
I knew there was more behind it.
More about Damon.
More about Marissa.
More about the years before my wedding.
And now I intended to learn all of it.
Not because I wanted revenge.
Not because I wanted to destroy my marriage.
Because after twenty-five years of protecting everyone else's peace, I finally understood that the truth belonged to me too.
Click here to continue reading: PART 5: The Letter I Read at Midnight Revealed Why My Mother Had Kept One Part of My Marriage Hidden From Me
The Dress I Chose to Celebrate Fifty Years of Becoming Everyone Else Before Finally Choosing Myself
Part 4 of 10
