For ten years, I was Gabrielle Fuller, successful graphic designer turned dedicated wife, my life orbiting Andrew Scott, my charismatic lawyer husband. Then my father, a well-respected judge and Andrew' s mentor, made a dying wish: "Gabby... promise me... you and Andrew... work it out." Hours later, clutching my phone in the sterile waiting room, I tried to reach Andrew, who was at a crucial legal conference in London. Dozens of calls, countless texts – all went unanswered. Finally, on the twentieth try, an unfamiliar female voice answered Andrew' s phone: Jennifer Chavez, his ex-girlfriend and current colleague. Her clipped tone dismissed my emergency, saying he was "busy." The world tilted as I realized the unspoken truth: he was with her, and she was answering his calls while my father lay dying. My father' s funeral unfolded without Andrew; his absence a glaring wound in the front row, a whisper among the city's legal elite. I clung to flimsy excuses until I saw it: Andrew' s beaming photo celebrating a "big win" in London, posted the day my father died, with a photo of him and Jennifer captioned by Andrew: "Couldn't have done it without you." Every excuse shattered. He had time for social media but not for my desperate calls. The man I built my life around wasn't unreachable; he was simply unavailable to me. I called my best friend, Molly: "It' s over. I need a divorce lawyer." Now, I reclaim my life, piece by painful piece, starting with a new job and finding my own purpose. But when Andrew returns, pleading ignorance and begging for another chance, can I truly move on when the past refuses to let go?
For ten years, I was Gabrielle Fuller, successful graphic designer turned dedicated wife, my life orbiting Andrew Scott, my charismatic lawyer husband.
Then my father, a well-respected judge and Andrew' s mentor, made a dying wish: "Gabby... promise me... you and Andrew... work it out."
Hours later, clutching my phone in the sterile waiting room, I tried to reach Andrew, who was at a crucial legal conference in London.
Dozens of calls, countless texts – all went unanswered.
Finally, on the twentieth try, an unfamiliar female voice answered Andrew' s phone: Jennifer Chavez, his ex-girlfriend and current colleague.
Her clipped tone dismissed my emergency, saying he was "busy."
The world tilted as I realized the unspoken truth: he was with her, and she was answering his calls while my father lay dying.
My father' s funeral unfolded without Andrew; his absence a glaring wound in the front row, a whisper among the city's legal elite.
I clung to flimsy excuses until I saw it: Andrew' s beaming photo celebrating a "big win" in London, posted the day my father died, with a photo of him and Jennifer captioned by Andrew: "Couldn't have done it without you."
Every excuse shattered.
He had time for social media but not for my desperate calls.
The man I built my life around wasn't unreachable; he was simply unavailable to me.
I called my best friend, Molly: "It' s over. I need a divorce lawyer."
Now, I reclaim my life, piece by painful piece, starting with a new job and finding my own purpose.
But when Andrew returns, pleading ignorance and begging for another chance, can I truly move on when the past refuses to let go?
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