On the day of my divorce, I found out who the other woman was.

My college roommate.

Worse, my four-year-old son was right there with her. Building Legos.

He even kissed her on the cheek. "Brenda, you're so cool! I love you the most!"

Then he saw me. He started to scream. "Make her go away! I want Brenda to be my mommy!"

So I walked out and left them with everything.

Two years later, I had started a new life with my adopted daughter.

But my ex-husband started showing up, cornering me at her school. He always brought our son.

His eyes were red as he tugged on my shirt. "Mommy? Can I call you when I miss you?"

I looked down at the boy who chose her over me.

"No. That won't be necessary."

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1

The day I divorced Edwin Buckley, I walked out of the Manhattan Supreme Court under a grim, overcast sky. A storm was brewing.

"Calista." Edwin opened the passenger door of his Tesla. "Let me give you a ride."

Before I could answer, my son, Leo Buckley, poked his head out from the back seat, his voice tinny as he spoke into his Apple Watch. "Dad, Brenda said she's making me the ultimate s'mores tonight. She already bought the Ghirardelli chocolate, and she's waiting for us at our place."

Edwin’s brow furrowed. "Get back in the car," he commanded.

Leo shot me a glare before reluctantly retreating inside.

"No, thanks," I said, my voice firm. "I wouldn't want to interrupt."

Edwin muttered, almost to himself, "We could go to that restaurant you love."

I reminded him softly, "Edwin, we're divorced."

He looked up, his eyes flaring red for a moment, but he quickly composed himself. "Yeah, but we should at least part on good terms. Besides, the three of us haven't..."

I cut him off. "That Italian place closed down two months ago. The rent skyrocketed. I emailed you about it. Twice."

It was our favorite spot back in our NYU days, an old joint in Greenwich Village. Two months ago, the owner had announced on social media that he was closing up shop.

I had mentioned it to Edwin twice, but he was always too busy. Too busy to even glance at my emails.

By the time he had a moment to spare, the restaurant was gone. And with it, our nine years together.

"Edwin, take care of Leo. I won't be bothering you again." With that, I hailed an Uber and left New York City with my meager luggage and a shattered heart.

I had discovered Edwin's betrayal after a charity gala. The irony was, his lover was none other than my college roommate, Brenda Vance.

I had come home early, wanting to surprise Leo.

When I walked into our Upper East Side penthouse, it was clear they had just finished.

Edwin was in the master bathroom, the sound of the shower running. Brenda was with Leo, assembling a massive Lego Hogwarts Castle.

As the last brick clicked into place, Leo planted a loud kiss on Brenda's cheek, dancing with joy. "Brenda, you're so cool! I love you the most!"

Brenda was beaming, completely satisfied, and was about to lift Leo up when she looked up and saw me. Her arms froze mid-air. "Calista?" She forced a stiff smile. "I thought you weren't coming back tonight."

I turned, set down my clutch, and took a deep breath. "I was supposed to stay another day, but I missed Leo."

The truth was, I'd been worried Edwin couldn't handle Leo alone, so I had asked Brenda to come help.

I never imagined they would use my son as a lookout for their sordid affair.

Edwin emerged from the bathroom, his wet hair a mess, droplets of water trickling down his toned back and onto the towel knotted at his waist. He froze when he saw me, then grabbed a glass of water from the bar. "You're back. Did the gala go well?"

I ignored his nearly naked body and answered calmly, "Yes."

Brenda, panicked, stumbled backward, knocking over the designer trash can by the bed. A used condom wrapper tumbled out.

Her face went pale. She scrambled to pick it up. "Calista, since you're back, I should get going. I'll just… take the trash out for you on my way."

Before I could say a word, Leo clung tightly to Brenda. "Don't go, Brenda! I want to play with you some more!"

Brenda looked at me, then at Leo, and laughed awkwardly. "Leo, your mom's home now. I have to go."

Leo plopped down on the floor and burst into tears. "I don't want her! I want Brenda to stay! I want Brenda to be my mom!"

Leo was only four, unaware of the daggers his innocent words plunged into my heart.

Brenda patted my shoulder. "Kids just say things. Don't take it to heart."

Edwin hauled Leo up from the floor. "Say that again," he said coldly, "and you'll spend an hour in time-out."

Edwin's threat worked. Leo didn't dare throw another tantrum.

The living room fell silent, filled only with the sound of his suppressed sobs.

Watching this absurd farce unfold felt like a real-life version of "The Emperor's New Clothes."

If I didn't call it out, we could go on pretending to be a picture-perfect family.

Edwin's career was soaring. I could continue being the idle, wealthy wife of a tech mogul.

Brenda would remain my best friend, the one I shared everything with.

And Leo, despite his brattiness, was still the son I had carried for nine months, the one who'd left a permanent scar on my body.

And yet...

As I watched Edwin push open the door to his study, I heard my own voice, impossibly steady. "Edwin, let's get a divorce."

I returned to my hometown, the small town of Beacon in the Hudson Valley. Eleanor Vance was here. She was my only family, the director of a local youth center.

"Calista." She took my hands, her eyes welling with tears. "What are you going to do now?"

I squeezed her hand back, gazing at the rain-slicked street. "I'll be okay," I said softly.

In truth, I had no idea. In an instant, my husband, my son, and my best friend were all gone. I was adrift again, just like when I was a child.

Eleanor hugged me. "If you're sad, you can always come home."

I nodded. As I was leaving, a commotion broke out by the gate. A little girl had been pushed into a mud puddle by some boys, her white dress stained. Eleanor scolded the boys while I helped the girl up. She was clutching a teddy bear, its face also splattered with mud.

"Is this important to you?" I asked.

She nodded, trying in vain to wipe the mud off.

Eleanor sighed. "That's Sherry. She waits at the gate every day for her family, but no one has ever come."

In her small, lonely frame, I saw a reflection of my own childhood. On impulse, I asked, "Can I become her foster mother?"

That day, there were two figures at the gate. And I had a daughter.

I named her Sherry Miller. At home, I drew Sherry a warm bath, and soon she was scrubbed clean, smelling of soap and fresh towels. With my experience raising Leo, I quickly found that Sherry was practically an angel by comparison.

Leo had been a terror, a picky eater who would only touch organic chicken nuggets and often threw his entire plate on the floor.

Sherry, on the other hand, was quiet. She accepted the quinoa salad I made for her without complaint.

She ate in silence and even offered to do the dishes.

Taking care of Sherry was so much easier than raising Leo had ever been.

But I always sensed an invisible wall between us.

During a routine dental check-up, I found out Sherry had a cavity.

It reminded me of Leo's dental problems. I never let him have sweets. The day Leo said Brenda was making him s'mores, Edwin hadn't reacted at all, clearly unconcerned about his son's teeth.

Sherry noticed I'd drifted off. She tapped my arm, a confused look on her face.

Trying to tease her, I said, "I saw this movie once, Orphan, where the adopted kid turns out to be a grown-up. So I have to check your teeth to see if you're really a kid." For the first time, Sherry gave me a look of pure exasperation.

That night, Sherry knocked on my bedroom door and asked if she could sleep with me.

As I tucked her in, I felt her trembling. "What's wrong?" I asked.

Sherry peeked out from under the covers, her voice muffled. "I watched that movie you were talking about. It scared me."

I chuckled softly and soothed her. "Don't be scared, Sherry. It's just a movie."

After that, Sherry started calling me Mom. Soon, she was old enough for school.

One day, I got a call from her teacher. She'd been in a fight.

On the way there, my mind raced. A fight? Sherry? It didn't make sense. She was always so mature, so in control.

Since she'd been living with me, the horror movie incident was the only time she had lost her composure.

She was always so calm. I couldn't imagine what would make her fight someone.

When I got to the school, the teacher had already separated the two children. She explained that a little boy had seen the wallpaper on Sherry's smartwatch and insisted the person on it was his mom.

He tried to snatch the watch during the argument, and a fight broke out.

The moment Sherry saw me, she stopped writing her apology letter and packed her schoolbag.

Seeing her unharmed and composed, I breathed a sigh of relief.

Suddenly, a small figure launched himself at me, yelling "Mommy!" over and over.

Sherry frowned and pulled the boy away. "Ew, you got your snot on my mom's dress."

It was then I recognized the boy. It was Leo, my son, taller now and with a missing front tooth.

He pointed at me, his eyes swollen but his gaze determined. "She's my mom! Give her back!"

"She is not," Sherry replied with equal conviction. "My mom likes spicy ramen and watches true crime documentaries. She's not your mom."

Leo looked at me with pleading eyes, clutching my finger. "Mommy, you love kale salad and you never watch scary things, right?"

I gently pried Leo's hand off mine, settled Sherry's backpack on her shoulders, and kissed her cheek. "Sweetie, can you get home by yourself tonight?"

Sherry nodded and walked away, her backpack bouncing with each step.

Leo's eyes dimmed as he watched me send Sherry off.

But when he saw me looking at him, he forced a hopeful smile and asked nonchalantly, "Mom, when are we going home?"

His stubbornness reminded me of Edwin. "Where's your father?"

Leo looked down, his gaze fixed on his shoes. "I want to be with you, Mom."

The teacher walked in, holding her phone. "Mr. Buckley is here. You can go see him."

My stomach clenched.

Leo followed the teacher out, glancing back at me every few steps.

I sat on a small chair in the office. A mischievous thought struck me. "Do you know why I ate so much kale salad in New York?"

Leo turned, a look of confusion on his face.

I continued, "It was because you wouldn't eat your vegetables, and I was worried you'd be malnourished. I had to coax you. You'd only eat a few bites if I ate a lot. That's why you thought I loved it. And actually, I love true crime documentaries, but you and your dad don't, so I went along with you guys and watched those boring art films instead."

Leo's eyes turned red, but he held back his tears. "Mom, I'll eat salad from now on, and I'll watch documentaries with you, okay?"