Four years ago, my marriage ended in a single moment. I forgot something, came home, and found my husband in our bed with a woman I’d never met. I didn’t scream—I just left and filed for divorce that week.
My son David, 22, moved to New York a year later. We rebuilt our lives separately but stayed close.
Last month he called: he’s engaged and wants me at his small party in Brooklyn. I agreed. At the party, he led me to his fiancée—Alice—and the room vanished. She looked exactly like the woman in my memory. I collapsed, overwhelmed.
In his bedroom, I told David I thought his fiancée was the woman who’d ruined my marriage. He was stunned. We brought Alice in. She denied ever meeting my ex, then revealed she has an identical twin sister—Anna—who had a history of bad decisions and, she believed, was the woman with my husband.
Once I processed it, I saw it was a tragic coincidence, not betrayal by Alice. I told them I believed her and supported their relationship.
We went back to the party, talked about the wedding, and I finally felt the past behind me.