At 69 years old, I longed for passion, intimacy, and that long-forgotten feeling of finally being kable to relax beside someone who still found me desirable, while my husband lay sick in his bed… Now, please tell me honestly: did I make a mistake by treating him this way?

He just looked tired.

“No, Mom,” he said quietly. “You became a monster when you started making everyone feel guilty for noticing the truth.”

Those words struck me harder than any scream could have.

Laura helped Robert back to his room. I followed them, continuing to explain myself, continuing to try to make them understand that I was not a bad person — I was just lonely.

But Robert did not even want to look at me.

His gaze was fixed on the wall, his eyes filled with tears and emptiness.

For the first time, I truly understood that I had not only humiliated him.

I had broken something inside him that could never be repaired.

The next morning, Michael packed my suitcase.

At first, I thought he was packing Laura’s things. I even felt a small sense of satisfaction, thinking that he had finally chosen his mother over his wife again.

Then I saw my clothes folded inside.

My red dress was on top.

“Where am I supposed to go?” I asked.

“To Aunt Helen’s for now,” he replied. “Later, we’ll find another solution.”

I just stared at him.

“You’re sending your own mother away from her home?”