Forty Years a Stranger

At sixty years old, I discovered something that shattered my entire existence—my marriage certificate with my husband was a fake and the son I had raised with my own two hands was not mine. He was the child of my husband and my own sister.

For the past forty years, I had dedicated my life to them. I gave up countless opportunities for promotion to support Luke Rivera’s career, becoming a full-time housewife in the name of love.

When our son wanted to buy a house in a prestigious school district, I took on four jobs a day, working through the night as if it were daylight.

When our grandson developed chronic stomach problems, I cooked three meals a day for him with care and love.

Life was exhausting, but I had convinced myself it was worth it.

That illusion lasted until last night—when Luke finally decided to fulfill the promise he made to me forty years ago: to take me on a world tour. I was overjoyed and eagerly packed my suitcase. But then, I accidentally came across his chat history with Camila Jenkins.

[Honey, good thing we burned that fake marriage certificate back when we got married. Otherwise, my sister would’ve found out hers was the counterfeit.]

[If she had discovered the truth, we would’ve been ruined. No one would’ve taken care of our son, handled the housework, or saved all that money for us. And you wouldn’t have been able to chase your dreams.]

[Before we leave, make sure to get rid of her. I don’t want her ruining our family trip.]

It felt as if I had plunged into an icy abyss.

The happiness I had once been so proud of turned out to be nothing but lies and betrayal.

Everything I had done, everything I had sacrificed, had been for someone else’s benefit.

So after they boarded their plane, I sold everything I owned and set off alone—to finally fulfill the dream I had been denied in my youth.

Whatever time I had left, I would live it for myself.

——

“Ms. Jenkins, your documents have been successfully submitted. We’ve arranged an emergency lane for you. You’ll receive your passport and visa within a week.”

The staff member handed back my documents with a polite smile.

I took them with trembling fingers, emotions swirling in my chest.

Traveling the world had been my dream at eighteen. Luke had promised to make that dream come true. But forty years had passed and I hadn’t even been able to travel to another province.

Now, as that dream finally stood within reach, I felt oddly lost.

By the time I returned home, the sun had already set.

I walked through the door to find Luke sitting on the couch, video chatting with Camila. His face wore a shy, boyish grin that felt completely out of place for a man his age.

But the moment he saw me, his expression darkened.

“Where have you been? Why are you so late? Don’t you know we haven’t eaten yet? Go make dinner—don’t let the kids go hungry.”

In the past, I would’ve immediately gone to the kitchen, grabbed a spatula and cooked for them without a word. But now, looking at the mountain of unwashed dishes and the overflowing trash bin, I felt nothing but exhaustion. I sat down on the sofa.

“I’m very tired today. Go eat out—or have Camila come cook for you. Didn’t you say her cooking’s better than mine?”

He noticed my gaze on his phone and quickly covered the screen. Then, with a forced calm, he said.

“She just asked me about work. Are you seriously jealous over this? At your age? You’re so petty. If you came on this trip, you’d just find ways to pick on her. Honestly, I don’t think you should go. You’d definitely make a scene.”

My son entered the house, casually kicking off his shoes as he chimed in.

“Mom, we’re going to Italy. You don’t speak Italian, so it’ll be a pain and a waste of money. This trip’s to relieve work stress. You’re always at home doing nothing—what stress do you need to relieve?”

As he spoke, he tossed his socks into the laundry basket I had prepared, completely ignoring the fact that my underwear was still inside.

My son didn’t resemble me at all. I used to think he had simply inherited more of Luke’s genes. But now, looking closely, I could see the resemblance to Camila.

No wonder he always defended her—he carried her blood.

My real child had died during childbirth, taken from me before I ever held them in my arms.

I let out a bitter sigh and gave one last effort.

“But your aunt doesn’t speak Italian either.”

Without hesitation, my son shot back, “That’s different. My aunt’s an artist. She should travel the world for inspiration. She doesn’t speak Italian, but my dad does. Mom, you’ve always been jealous of her talent. You keep comparing yourself to her. But we all know who you are. Don’t embarrass yourself.”

He spoke with such certainty, such disdain.

He had clearly forgotten how sickly he was as a child, how doctors once said he wouldn’t live past the age of eight. It was me—I had run from hospital to hospital, begged for treatment and saved his life.

And his biological mother, Camila, had gone abroad in pursuit of freedom and had never even visited him once.

As I was about to remove his socks from my underwear, my grandson suddenly stormed out of his room and shoved me hard.

I lost my balance and fell backward, landing on the floor in a humiliating heap.

Laughter erupted from around the room. Not one of them offered to help me up.

My grandson planted his hands on his hips, looked down at me and shouted with disgust.

“You old hag! You’re nothing compared to my aunt. Go look in the mirror—you look like a pig spirit in human form. Gross! My aunt’s beautiful and always smells nice. If I had a choice, I wouldn’t want you as my grandma!”

I looked at him, calm and composed and said softly,

“Then let Camila be your grandmother. After all, you share her blood.”

Before I could blink, Luke slammed an ashtray onto the table in front of me.

“What the hell are you saying?” he roared. “Are you accusing me of having an affair with your sister? How could you think something so filthy? I only helped your sister because she had no one else. I did it for you!”

I glanced at the ashtray that had nearly hit me and replied with a quiet voice.

“I spoke out of turn. Fine. I won’t go on this trip. You two go ahead.”

They never intended to bring me anyway. So I might as well give them what they want.