Chapter 1 Woke Up
My husband woke up after ten years in a coma from a car accident.
But I caught him kissing the new young nanny by the door.
He looked at me, utterly confused. “Who are you?”
He’d lost his memory, claimed he wanted to divorce me and marry the hanny.
I fainted on the spot, but in that foggy moment, I heard his voice, “I’ve been sick of living with you for years.”
He thought I didn’t know.
When I brought an old friend home with me, my husband panicked, demanding, “Who is he?”
When I woke up again, my son Damian Ospen was watching me with concern. Across the room, my husband, Wyatt Ospen, had his arms wrapped around the nanny.
Just seeing this scene felt like a knife twisting in my heart.
Wyatt glanced at me, then turned away, acting as if nothing had happened, continuing to flirt with Ezra.
“Baby, once I’m discharged, I’ll take you to pick out jewelry for the wedding.”
My daughter–in–law, Laurel Parnell, whispered something to him, and he immediately snapped, “Why not? I’m getting a divorce!”
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He jabbed a finger at me, spitting venom. “Who is this old hag? She’s disgusting and ancient–who’d want her as a wife? I don’t even know her!
“I’m marrying Ezra. She’s my true love.”
As he spoke, he swept the bowl of bone broth I’d made off the table. “Who’d eat food she cooked? It’s disgusting.”
My eyes blurred with tears. I couldn’t stop them from falling.
Damian and Laurel saw everything. They came over and actually said, J’Mom, maybe you should just agree to the divorce.
“Dad finally woke up–even if he’s forgotten you, he’s still my dad.
“Don’t you feel bad for him?
“He’s like this now. Just let him have his way. Don’t upset him.”
I looked at Damian in disappointment.
He knew full well Wyatt wasn’t suffering from amnesia. Still, he sided with Ezra, ready to throw me out of my own home.
For 30 years, I’d taken care of this family.
All my youth, all my energy, poured into this household.
Damian got married, bought a house, and started his own family. Before the wedding, Laurel insisted on a house, a car, and a fifty–thousand–dollar wedding gift.
Wyatt was just a low–level employee, coasting through life, never willing to swallow his pride and work harder to earn more.
For Damian’s sake, I worked endless shifts at the factory, cleaned houses, took on every odd job I could find–scraping together thousands of dollars
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so he could settle down and have children.
When my grandkids, Cody and Faye, were born, Damian and Laurel handed them off to me without a second thought.
Then, when Wyatt was 40, he had an accident and ended up in a vegetative state.
Damian was the first to suggest pulling the plug.
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It was I who stopped him. More than once, Damian tried to do it behind my back.
Our daughter, Maisy Ospen, never even called–not once.
But for the slim hope that Wyatt might wake up, I stayed by his side day and night, never leaving, caring for him for ten long years.
Ten years. They turned me into the ugly, old woman Wyatt now despised.
Now that he was awake, he and Damian were closer than ever.
Hig
Damian hired a nanny, supposedly to help me out. But after just a few days, he fell for her.
So much for conscience.
I walked over to his hospital bed and quietly picked up the lunchbox from the floor.
I hadn’t eaten yet, not even a sip of water. I rushed over, only afraid he’d wake up hungry.
“You’re my wife?” Wyatt frowned at me in disgust. “Why don’t I remember you?
“And what are you wearing? Are you trying to embarrass me?”
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I looked down at my clothes–a faded cleaning uniform.
Every penny we had went into his hospital bills over the
years.
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Damian’s family had kids to raise, always coming to me for help.
Most days, I wore the same old tops and pants I bought 20 years ago when I first got married.
Sometimes, coworkers gave me their cast–offs.
The cleaning uniform I had on now was three years old–washed so much it’s faded paper–thin.
I looked at the man before me–the man I’d prayed for, day and night, for ten years.
He was finally awake. But he didn’t want me anymore.
Still, I couldn’t help but reach out, wanting to touch his face.
For the first ten years, he’d been good to me–caring and gentle. I couldn’t believe someone so kind could change overnight.
Before my hand could reach him, he slapped it away. “Don’t touch me! Your hands are so rough!”
My hand quickly swelled and reddened. Damian snapped, “Mom, why are you touching him? Your calluses almost scratched Dad.”
My calluses?
I looked down at my hands. For ten years, I’d washed his soiled clothes, emptied his bedpans, turned him over, and cleaned him up.
No wonder they were rough and scarred.
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To make ends meet, I even took a cleaning job at the hospital.
My palms were covered in thick calluses and cracked scars.
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I didn’t want to say another word. I grabbed the lunchbox to leave, but Ezra snatched it from me, settling into Wyatt’s lap in her tight black dress, smiling sweetly. “Wyatt, let me feed you.”
Wyatt wrapped his arms around her waist without hesitation, shouting like a child, “I don’t care! I’m marrying Ezra!”
Damian looked embarrassed. He glanced at me and hesitated before speaking. “Dad, what about Mom?”
“I don’t care! Who cares about that ugly old woman? I just want Ezra!”
“Mom…” Damian looked at me hopefully. Laurel whispered, “Mom, Dad can’t be upset right now. Maybe…”
“All right,” I said calmly.
Wyatt hadn’t expected that. For a moment, a flicker of panic and confusion flashed across his face. The next second, he went back to teasing Ezra, but his eyes kept darting over to me.
I opened the cabinet, pulled out a burlap sack, and packed up everything I’d kept in this tiny hospital room for the past ten years.
My bedding, my folding cot, my kettle, and my towels.
Once everything was packed, I looked Wyatt in the eye. “Tomorrow morning at nine, I’ll be waiting for you at the courthouse.”
“Mom!”
Damian reached out, pretending to stop me, but his hand didn’t even touch me. I didn’t look back. I slung the sack over my shoulder and
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walked away.
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