Back in Time: My Wife's Secret Betrayal

Back in Time: My Wife's Secret Betrayal

Gavin

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My wife of fifty years just passed away. Everyone called me devoted for staying by her side until her last breath. As I sorted through her things, I found a stack of journals, tucked away in a dusty box. Her elegant script filled the pages, but the words, page after page, year after year, were for another man: Caleb Blakely. Fifty years of our marriage had been a lie, her every action orchestrated to protect her secret passion for him. Her "medical trauma," the reason she claimed we could never be intimate, was a cruel fabrication. And my son, Leo-the boy I raised and loved with all my soul after his mother died-he wasn't just my nephew in spirit. He was Caleb' s biological son. The man I thought was my brother, the woman I devoted my life to, they had made me a fool, an unpaid nanny, a convenient placeholder. The agony of five decades of deceit crushed me, and my heart, already weak from age and grief, finally gave out. Then I gasped, eyes flying open, perfectly healthy and impossibly young, back in my bed with the morning sunlight streaming through the window. I was back. Fifty years in the past. Jocelyn was walking in the door, briefcase in hand, ready to begin the betrayal all over again. Not this time.

Introduction

My wife of fifty years just passed away. Everyone called me devoted for staying by her side until her last breath.

As I sorted through her things, I found a stack of journals, tucked away in a dusty box.

Her elegant script filled the pages, but the words, page after page, year after year, were for another man: Caleb Blakely.

Fifty years of our marriage had been a lie, her every action orchestrated to protect her secret passion for him.

Her "medical trauma," the reason she claimed we could never be intimate, was a cruel fabrication.

And my son, Leo-the boy I raised and loved with all my soul after his mother died-he wasn't just my nephew in spirit. He was Caleb' s biological son.

The man I thought was my brother, the woman I devoted my life to, they had made me a fool, an unpaid nanny, a convenient placeholder.

The agony of five decades of deceit crushed me, and my heart, already weak from age and grief, finally gave out.

Then I gasped, eyes flying open, perfectly healthy and impossibly young, back in my bed with the morning sunlight streaming through the window.

I was back. Fifty years in the past. Jocelyn was walking in the door, briefcase in hand, ready to begin the betrayal all over again.

Not this time.

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The judge' s voice was a low drone, stamping out the last echoes of a life I barely recognized. "Divorce granted." My husband, Daniel, wasn' t there, called away by "duty"-a last-minute training, his lawyer smoothly explained. It was always duty, always Olivia, his "fragile" niece, who overshadowed everything. My last day at the fire station, a small comfort, was shattered when Daniel appeared, asking me to drop the papers. He even tried a surprise birthday gift, only to abandon me when Olivia had another "panic attack." I filed for divorce, expediting my transfer to a small town. But before I could leave, Daniel burst in with Olivia, whose innocent eyes hid a smirk. They' d invaded my last sanctuary. Then, I overheard Olivia, the so-called fragile niece, passionately kissing Daniel while begging him to choose her and "let me go." My world crumbled. This wasn't a family; it was a sick, twisted drama. I was the villain, destroying their codependent world. And then Olivia, in a dramatic display, ran headfirst into a wall, collapsing in a pool of blood. Daniel scooped her up, his eyes accusing me. My fault. Always my fault. I didn' t understand. How could I be blamed for her manipulative antics? How could he be so blind? This wasn't just about an affair; it was a decade of emotional suffocation. I was drowning, and he was too focused on her tears to notice. I picked up the divorce papers, the ones he hadn't received because Olivia had intercepted them. The true nature of their warped bond finally became horrifyingly clear. I drove away, toward a new city, a new life, finally ready to let go of the man who had loved duty more than me-or so I thought.

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