She told him she’d fallen in love with someone who didn’t exist and returned the ring.
Later that summer, I learned Mark’s fishing friends had also stopped inviting him on their annual trips. They’d realized he’d lied to them, too.
While unpacking a box from our old house, I found his original wedding ring. For years, I’d kept it safe as a small act of love.
Now I understood that a ring was never proof of commitment. Mark had worn one while lying to Claire and left another in our drawer while lying to me.
Neither ring had made him faithful.
Then Claire sent me a message. She’d started taking painting classes and asked if I’d like to join her.
I said yes.
For months, I’d wondered what Claire had that I didn’t. But meeting her taught me something important: neither of us was better than the other. We were simply two women who had trusted the same man and been denied the truth.
