The past is gone with the wind

I’d been married to Harold, a professor, for half my life, a life we’d chosen to live child-free. Then I found out he was having an affair with his student, Melissa. And they had a six-year-old son, Mikey.

The day I planned to report him to the university, Melissa knelt before me with Mikey.

“Maybe you and Professor Harold loved each other once,” she said, “but he’s in his forties now. Who wouldn’t want a legacy?”

“I can live without a title,” she continued. “I can even step back from Mikey. Just please, don’t break up our family.”

Harold stood behind them, protective. I was eerily calm.

“End it with them,” I told him, “or be reported to the university. Your choice.”

He ripped up the report without hesitation. I thought he’d made his choice.

But on the fifty-second sleepless night, he didn’t come home. Instead, I learned Melissa was pregnant again.

She had graduated by then. My threat was meaningless.

Harold’s exhaustion and disgust were no longer veiled. “Treat Melissa and Mikey well,” he said, “or keep sleeping alone. Your choice.”

My heart turned to ash. “There’s another option,” I replied. “I choose divorce.”

Harold stared, incredulous. Then he chuckled. “Is this a joke? Threatening divorce every time something goes wrong?”

My gaze hardened. “No. This time it’s real.”

He laughed coldly, pulling off his wedding ring – twenty years on his finger. He flung it at me.

Twenty years of marriage shattered on the floor.

I took a deep breath, removing my own carefully maintained gold band.

We’d pawned the matching earrings and necklace years ago to fund his research. The ring was the last vestige of our marriage.

Now I gave it back.

Harold’s expression was a mix of emotions. He’d expected a screaming match, I think.

Once, he would have been right.

But fifty-two cold nights had extinguished my hope.

“Ashley, don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “Melissa has already made so many concessions.”

“I know you don’t really want a divorce,” he pleaded. “But I can’t abandon Melissa and Mikey. Mikey is only six. You grew up in a single-parent household. How can you do that to him?”

I stared at him, a stranger after twenty years of sharing a bed.

Even my painful past was now a bargaining chip.

My mother died during childbirth, and my father blamed me.

My childhood was hell, and it left me terrified of marriage and children.

Harold had broken down my walls. He said he didn’t want kids either. We were perfect for each other.

In those days, not wanting children was absurd.

But he ran away with me, defying everyone. We struggled through tough times in a new city.

Of course, even the best-laid plans can fail.

We got pregnant once. Somehow, his parents found out.

They promised to raise the child if I gave birth. They’d also give us a hundred thousand dollars, enough to live comfortably.

I almost caved, ready to give them the grandchild they craved. But Harold held my hand, talking to me all night.

“Don’t worry about what others think,” he’d said. “Just do what feels right. I’ll always support you.”

“But medical technology has advanced,” I argued. “Even difficult births are survivable now. Are you sure you don’t want this child?”

He nodded, and drove me to the clinic the next day.

After that, he got a vasectomy.

But vasectomies aren’t foolproof. Just like promises, apparently.

Thinking back, I realized my pregnancy six years ago coincided with Mikey’s birth. It all seemed too convenient.

Melissa even asked me to help her after Mikey was born.

I looked at Harold, forty-something and still handsome except for a few wrinkles. He wasn’t the man who had once adored me.

“You say you can’t bear for Mikey to be fatherless,” I said. “But you can bear for me to be husbandless?”

“You’re all I have,” I whispered.

He closed his eyes, seemingly conflicted. “For years, I respected your wishes. I didn’t ask you to have children. Why can’t you understand? We can bring Melissa and Mikey here. We can all live together.”

“I’m not that desperate!” I interrupted, my voice rising.

“You bring her here, and what am I? The wife in some polygamous arrangement? Their nanny?”

“Do you think this is a kindness?” I cried. “Watching my husband sleep with another woman? How can you be so cruel?”

I collapsed, sobbing. He reached for me, but Mikey tugged on his coat.

Neither Melissa nor Mikey spoke, but they had won.

Harold left with them. “Think it over,” he said.

On the fifty-third night alone, I ripped the calendar page off the wall.

I called my lawyer friend. “Can you draw up a divorce agreement for me?” I asked. “This time, I’m serious.”

2

Harold vanished for a month. I knew where he was.

Most of his accounts were linked to my phone. I kept getting appointment reminders from the prenatal clinic.

He was with Melissa, I knew it.

I had her on social media, but I could barely bring myself to look at her posts.

She used to send me videos of Mikey.

“Auntie, Mikey’s getting so big!”

“Mikey recognizes me now! I’ll bring him to see you soon.”

“Auntie, can you pick up Mikey? I have classes.”

Throughout her graduate studies, we’d been friendly. I thought it was a normal student-teacher relationship. I’d always replied patiently.

Now, these memories were barbed hooks, tearing at my naivete.

She sent me a message: 【Auntie, Harold’s with me. Don’t worry.】

I clicked on her profile. A new video, posted minutes ago, already had two comments.

One from Harold: “I’ll pick you up after your yoga class.”

One from his mother: “More videos of my precious grandson! Love seeing him.”

My relationship with Harold’s mother had been icy ever since our elopement and my refusal to have children. We’d only connected on social media a couple of years ago.

Now, scrolling through Melissa’s posts, I saw their interactions going back six years.

Had I been the only one in the dark?

I went out, numbly. I was buying groceries when I ran into Harold’s mother with Mikey.

“Sweetie, what do you want to eat? Grandma will make it for you tonight.”

Her warmth towards Mikey contrasted sharply with her usual venom towards me. It returned the moment she saw me.

She shielded Mikey.

“What are you doing here?” she hissed. “Trying to hurt my grandson? Even if you shamelessly refuse to divorce, you can’t change his blood. He and his mother will be in the family records. As for you, you made my son suffer for so long. My family doesn’t acknowledge you!”

I smiled bitterly, speechless.

Mikey reached for my cookies. His grandmother snatched them away.

Learning about Harold’s affair, Melissa’s confrontation – I hadn’t flinched.

But now, I fled.

I hadn’t eaten dinner. My ulcer flared up.

In the haze of pain, I dialed a familiar number.

Warm water and pills appeared at my lips.

Time seemed to rewind to happier days. Whenever my stomach hurt, Harold was there with medicine.

I later learned he kept a small pill case in his shirt pocket, close to his heart.

Just like now, he reached into his pocket, placing pills in my hand. “Forgot to refill your prescription? I have plenty.”

“Even if I’m not here,” he murmured, “take care of yourself.”

Tears streamed down my face.

“Just stay,” I begged. “I don’t need the pills. I need you. Don’t go.”

He held me tight. “Okay, okay. I won’t go. I’ll stay with you, always.”

“I know you didn’t mean it about the divorce,” he whispered. “I would never divorce you.”

He kissed my forehead, his voice soothing my turmoil.

He said he’d been driving home when I called, and turned back immediately.

He said I was the most important person in his life.

We held each other, talking like newlyweds. It was sweet, like a beautiful dream.

I nestled against him, wishing the dream would never end.

Then a child coughed outside. Harold’s eyes darted away. “Melissa and Mikey are outside,” he said. “Should I let them in?”

I froze, instantly awake.

My dream was over.

3

The curtain parted. Melissa entered, holding Mikey’s hand.

In the dim light, I really looked at her for the first time.

She had long, flowing hair and wore a trendy sundress, the kind I’d never been brave enough to try, even in my youth.

I, on the other hand, was a mess from the pain.

Harold always said he liked bookish women. He said my writing was beautiful, that I was like fine wine, aging gracefully.

Yet, here he was, with a young, beautiful woman.

Melissa tripped on the rug, almost falling.

Harold rushed to catch her, letting me fall back onto the bed.

He’d dropped the pills to help her, not me.

Melissa gave me an apologetic smile. “Auntie, Harold told you about the… situation, right?”

“We didn’t want to bother you tonight,” she continued, “but it’s about Mikey. It’s urgent.”

I stared at Harold, confused. What situation?

Hadn’t he come to bring me medicine?

“It’s not a big deal, really,” she explained. “We just need to transfer Mikey’s residency to me, and then to you through your marriage.”

“Mikey is starting school soon,” she said. “You have that house in the good school district, right? You like living there, and you could look after Mikey too.”

I trembled, staring at her moving lips.

That house was my inheritance from my mother.

It was where Harold and I had lived during our hardest times, the place we planned to retire to.

Now, he wanted the child of the woman who had broken my heart to live there, and he expected me to take care of him!

I gasped for breath, the pain in my stomach overshadowed by the agony in my chest.

“Absolutely not!” I choked out. “That’s my house! I’d give it away before letting some mistress’s child live…”

Harold cut me off, his voice sharp. “Don’t talk like that in front of the child!”

He covered Mikey’s ears, looking at Melissa with concern.

Her face paled. Tears welled up. “Harold,” she said, her voice trembling, “you didn’t tell her about this when you took that call, did you?”

“You lied and said she agreed,” she accused. “You just wanted to come see her, didn’t you?”

“Mikey is my IVF baby,” she sobbed. “I went through so many injections to have him. I won’t let him suffer. Harold, maybe you should stay. Mikey and I can move to another state.”

She broke down, crying uncontrollably. Harold held her close. “You carried my child for nine months,” he said. “I’d be a monster to abandon you both now.”

“If she won’t budge about the school,” he declared, “then I’ll buy another house in that district, in your and Mikey’s name.”

“This is your home, Melissa,” he insisted. “No one’s making you leave!”

My heart sank. Harold wouldn’t let Melissa leave. It was me who had to go.

As I saw them to the door, I pressed the divorce papers into Harold’s hand.

“Don’t contact me again,” I said. “Just sign these and mail them to me.”

His eyes widened. He grabbed my wrist. “Don’t joke,” he pleaded. “People our age don’t get divorced.”

“They do,” I replied.

He looked agitated. “What about our students? Our colleagues? We work in the same department!”

“That’s your problem.”

I pulled away and walked inside.

I’d defied social pressure to remain child-free when I was young. Now, I was supposed to tolerate a loveless marriage because of appearances?

I had been married to Harold for twenty years, and his colleague for just as long.

We’d started with nothing, working odd jobs in a strange city.

We never complained, supporting each other. We’d gone back to school together, earned our degrees, secured our positions. We’d never been apart.

Somewhere along the way, we’d run out of things to say.

Even if I tried with all my might, we could never go back.

4

Life went on, even without him.

I overslept, missing the campus shuttle.

Frustrated, I reached for my phone to reschedule my class. Then I saw Harold’s car outside.

He rolled down the window. “You have an 8 a.m. class,” he said. “You’ll be late.”

It was an important lecture. I couldn’t miss it. I got in.

He fastened my seatbelt, the familiar scent of my favorite car freshener filling the air. The radio played my favorite music.

If I could ignore Melissa and Mikey in the backseat, it would have been perfect.

“I’m taking Mikey to campus today,” Harold said. “If you want, you can spend some time with them.”

“No,” I said. “I have class.”

I got out of the car the moment we arrived, fleeing before the tears could spill.

But Melissa wasn’t letting me off that easily. She brought Mikey to my lecture, sitting in the back.

Later, she dropped Mikey off at my lab, disappearing without a word.

Mikey wreaked havoc, scattering equipment and tearing my meticulously documented research notes.

I grabbed him. “Apologize,” I said.

I didn’t want to fight with a child, but he owed me an apology.

He smirked. “Why should I?” he said. “Mommy says all your research is really hers anyway. If Mommy cries, Daddy will give us everything you have.”

“I broke my stuff,” he declared. “Why should I apologize?”

My chest tightened, making it hard to breathe.

It didn’t end there. He picked up a pill, about to put it in his mouth.

I recognized it instantly. I slapped it out of his hand.

“Don’t put anything in your mouth!” I scolded. “That’s dangerous!”

He fell to the floor, wailing. A bright red handprint bloomed on his cheek.

Better a slap than death.

As I bent to comfort him, Melissa burst in, shoving me to the ground.

“Auntie!” she shrieked. “How could you hit Mikey while I was gone? I asked you to watch him for a little while, and you can’t even tolerate a child!”

I stared at her, then at Harold standing behind her. “He was going to swallow a pill!” I protested. “I had to stop him!”

“No!” Mikey cried. “Mommy said not to eat anything! The mean grandma tried to make me eat it! She hit me because I wouldn’t!”

I stared at Mikey, then at Harold.

I shook my head at him. He knew me. I was a vegetarian, almost a Buddhist. I would never poison a child.

He picked up the pill. “You’re saying Mikey took this himself?” he asked.

I nodded, thinking he believed me.

Then he slapped me, hard.

My hopes, along with my dignity, shattered.

“This is an experimental drug from our joint research project,” he said, his voice cold. “It’s kept locked in the freezer. How could Mikey get it if you didn’t give it to him?”

My mouth was dry, too bitter for words.

Melissa, using Mikey’s supposed distress as leverage, threatened to call the police.

“Harold,” she cried, “we were just talking about asking her to be Mikey’s godmother! Look what she did!”

“A child that young wouldn’t lie!” she insisted. “How can I let Mikey have someone like that as his godmother? I have to protect my son!”

Harold thrust the signed divorce papers at me. He still offered me a way out.

“Apologize to them,” he said. “When they’ve calmed down, maybe I’ll reconsider the divorce.”

I laughed, a hollow sound. I carefully tucked the papers into my bag.

“No need,” I said. “I’m not interested in reconsidering anything.”