“No.”
“Did you tell her that you were planning to divorce me?”
Dad's silence answered before he did.
“No,” he finally said.
Mom looked at him.
“So you allowed her to believe whatever she wanted to believe about our future.”
“I never promised her anything.”
“Then what did you promise me?”
Dad appeared confused.
“What do you mean?”
Mom spoke slowly.
“For thirty-two years, we built a life together. We made decisions about our home, our finances, our family, and our future. You asked me to trust you. I did. When you said you were working late, I believed you. When you said you were meeting colleagues, I believed you. When you came home and told me you were tired, I believed you.”
She paused.
“Did you ever stop to think about what it meant to make those statements while you were seeing someone else?”
Dad looked down.
“I didn't think it through.”
“That is part of the problem,” Mom replied. “You kept making decisions without thinking about what they would mean for anyone except yourself.”
Jade remained quiet throughout the exchange.
She had expected anger, perhaps shouting or accusations. Instead, Mom was asking questions that forced Dad to confront the consequences of his choices.
It was becoming clear that Mom's calmness was not indifference.
She was hurt, but she was determined to understand the truth before deciding what would happen next.
Then she asked another question.
“Does Laura know that I know?”
Dad shook his head.
“No.”
Mom nodded.
“Does she know you were planning to spend tonight at home with your wife?”
He looked uncomfortable.
“Yes.”
“Does she know you have told me about the affair?”
“No.”
Mom sat back in her chair.
“Then perhaps she should hear the truth from you, too.”
Dad looked alarmed.
“What are you talking about?”
Mom did not answer immediately.
Instead, she glanced toward the front door.
Dad followed her gaze.
Then he looked back at her.
“Helen, what have you done?”
Mom's expression remained unreadable.
“I invited someone else to dinner.”
Dad stared at her.
“Who?”
Mom placed her napkin beside her plate.
“Laura.”
For a moment, Dad appeared unable to process the answer.
“What?”
“She will be here tonight.”
He pushed his chair back so abruptly that it scraped against the floor.
“You invited Laura to our house?”
“Yes.”
“Why would you do that?”
Mom looked directly at him.
“Because I have spent the last six months living in a situation I did not understand. I want to hear the truth from the people involved.”
Dad's face had become pale.
“You can't be serious.”
Mom remained calm.
“I have never been more serious.”
13. The Unexpected Guest
Dad stood beside his chair, looking at Mom as though she had become a completely different person.
For decades, he had understood her reactions. He knew when she was upset, when she needed space, and when she wanted him to apologize.
This time, he could not predict what she would do.
He had expected anger when Jade mentioned the photographs. He had expected a private argument, perhaps a long discussion about the future of their marriage.
He had not expected Mom to invite the woman involved in the affair to their home.
“You can't just bring her here,” he said.
“I already invited her.”
“This is our house.”
“Yes,” Mom replied. “It is our house. That's why I want the truth about what has happened here.”
Dad shook his head.
“This is going too far.”
Mom's voice became firmer.
“What went too far was bringing another woman into our home while I believed we were sharing it honestly.”
He opened his mouth, then closed it again.
Jade looked between them.
She had known that the photographs would create a painful confrontation, but she had not expected the situation to develop this way. Mom's decision was surprising even to her.
“Perhaps I should leave,” Jade said quietly.
Mom turned toward her.
“No, Jade. You don't have to leave.”
“I don't want to make things worse.”
“You didn't create this situation.”
Jade hesitated.
Dad looked at her sharply.
“You've done enough.”
Mom turned toward him.
“Do not blame Jade for what you chose to do.”
Dad fell silent.
For a moment, the room seemed to become smaller. The table, the plates, and the half-finished meal suddenly felt like objects in a scene that no longer belonged to their ordinary lives.
Mom stood up and began collecting the empty dishes.
Her movements were deliberate, almost peaceful.
Dad watched her.
“Are you really going to do this?”
Mom placed the plates on the counter.
“Yes.”
“What do you expect to happen?”
She turned to face him.
“I don't know. That's why I want everyone to be honest.”
He looked toward the door again.
“What if she doesn't come?”
“Then she doesn't come.”
“And if she does?”
Mom paused.
“Then we'll talk.”
Dad ran a hand through his hair.
“This is humiliating.”
Mom's expression changed.
“Do you think I haven't felt humiliated? Do you think it was easy to sit in a café and look at photographs of my husband with another woman?”
He looked away.
“I never wanted to hurt you.”
“But you did.”
The words were simple, and there was no need to raise her voice.
Dad sat down again.
For the first time that evening, he seemed to understand that he could not control the conversation simply by deciding which parts of the truth were convenient to discuss.
Mom returned to the dining room.
She checked the time.
The second guest was expected shortly.