My Mother is Critically ill, But My Wife is Busy Meeting Her First Love

My mother suddenly fell gravely ill and was admitted to the ICU.

Before she went in, she clutched my hand, making me promise to take good care of Sally Maxwell.

I smiled and reassured her, telling her not to worry.

Alone, I waited outside the ICU, calling Sally over and over.

Finally, in the early hours of the morning, someone answered the phone.

But it wasn't her—it was her first love, Jason Warren.

"Sally's busy," he said. "She left her phone with me. If you need anything, just tell me."

I stayed silent for a moment before responding, "There's nothing important. Just the matter of a divorce."

——

My mother didn't make it.

After transferring her from the hospital to the church, I notified relatives, her colleagues, and her friends, including her former students.

Handling the arrangements wasn't as difficult as I had imagined.

There were clear steps to follow, a process for everything.

I went through the motions like a puppet on strings, completing every task.

The stream of "condolences" messages and words of comfort left me numb.

Those who knew Sally had their own opinions.

Publicly, she was my mother's prized student; she should have been there to help.

Privately, as her daughter-in-law, she had even more of a duty to be present, to wear mourning clothes.

But she never came.

From her ‎Instagram, it was clear she was abroad, attending an academic conference.

She looked radiant, and with good reason.

She's a young associate professor at a top university, managing several prestigious research grants.

I had almost immediately informed her of my mother's emergency, both by text and on WhatsApp.

But I received no response.

I told myself she was likely in a place with no signal, that maybe she hadn't seen the messages because of the time difference.

But then I saw her liking and commenting on Jason's ‎Instagram post.

I could no longer deceive myself.

Looking up at my mother's photo hanging on the wall, I realized something painful: there would never be another person who cared for me so selflessly, without expecting anything in return.

...

From the moment I first fell for her in my youth, to silently loving her for five years, then pursuing her for three more, I had finally won her over.

Chasing after her became second nature to me.

Three years ago, I finally fulfilled my dream of marrying her. I thought I had become the one and only person in her heart.

On our wedding day, she said to me, "Thank you for always being there for me."

...

I held onto those words.

So, after we got married, I continued just as before—I never burdened her, only silently stayed by her side.

My mother was a professor at New York University, and even served as the associate dean of her department.

Because Sally didn't want people to think she was using connections, I never showed up around her colleagues.

She was always busy, so I stayed home every day, making sure that when she returned, there was a hot meal waiting and a place for her to unwind.

I knew Jason had returned and that they were working on the same project.

But I trusted her.

She had promised me a lifetime together.

But long-term companionship can be exhausting.

Now, I'm not even sure if I have the strength to keep chasing after her.

"Could you look over my divorce papers? Just to make sure everything's in order."

I handed the printed divorce agreement to my good friend, Bob Cameron.

Bob, a lawyer, used to joke that if I ever got divorced, I should come to him. I never imagined his words would come true.

This wasn't the first time I had seen a divorce agreement.

I had found one in Sally's study before.

We fought about it for days.

She explained it away, saying it was a colleague's divorce papers that she was helping to review.

I made her promise that we would never see another divorce agreement in our lives.

But this time, it was different. This time, I was the one who had written the divorce papers, seriously contemplating ending our marriage.

"Don't worry, with her cheating, I'll make sure she pays," Bob said, grabbing the papers and rushing off.

...

My mother's sudden passing opened my eyes to certain people and things. I couldn't go on like this anymore.