Three years after my divorce, I casually asked my right-hand man to find out how my ex-wife was d0ing

“Her husband.”

“That’s what the records say.”

The words landed more heavily than they should have. I had no right to be surprised. Three years had passed. I had walked away from Evelyn with my pride intact and my priorities unchanged. If she had rebuilt her life, I had no one to blame but myself.

Still, imagining another man standing in my kitchen, touching the same coffee mug, hearing the children cry in the middle of the night—

I closed my eyes.