Wife Cheated In Front Of Me At Our Anniversary Dinner. I Divorced Her. Revenge Sad Audio Story.

[Music] I've always been a straightforward guy who values hard work and loyalty. My parents taught me honesty and perseverance. My dad built his accounting practice from scratch, and my mom was a dedicated school teacher. Their commitment set a high standard for me. When I met Jillian, we connected instantly at a friend's barbecue. Despite her recent breakup, our conversations flowed easily, and over time, our friendship grew into love. Two years later, we married, and I thought our life was perfect. Some days are tough, like when you oversleep, rush out the door, and everything spirals into

chaos. Today started just like that, and it only got worse. Jillian and I have been together for nearly five years, meeting at a barbecue hosted by friends. She was going through a tough breakup, and our friends thought I might help her move on. Initially hesitant, we eventually formed a genuine friendship. Six months later, I asked her out, and two years after meeting, I proposed. I was thrilled when she said yes, believing our bond was unbreakable—until tonight. "Greg," Jillian asked as I polished my shoes, "should I wear black or beige heels tonight?" "You look good in

both," I replied, "but the black ones emphasize your calves more." Jillian loved dressing up but often struggled with fashion. I liked that she sought my advice. After a busy day dealing with a difficult audit at work, I was tired and frustrated. Jillian had been excited about her high school reunion all week, seemingly ignoring my fatigue. In the past, she would comfort me, but this week she was focused solely on the reunion. Despite feeling neglected, I tried to be happy for her. At the reunion, Jillian was quickly surrounded by her friends, leaving me alone at dinner.

I sat with our friends Lena and Mark, barely participating in the conversation. Jillian acted happy but hardly spoke to me, and I noticed odd glances from others. As dinner ended, Jillian and Lena disappeared for a long time, and everyone prepared to move to the club for more drinks and dancing. "What's going on, Mark?" I asked, approaching my friend when Jillian and Lena didn't return. "Sorry, Greg," Mark said, flinching as I touched his shoulder. "I'm not sure what you mean." I gave him an incredulous look. "Mark, seriously..." I stopped when I saw Lena return alone, avoiding

my gaze. "Come on, Mark. Lena, where's Jillian?" I asked, concerned. Lena hesitated, then glanced at Mark. She looked around, struggling to find the words. "Sorry, Greg. She's with the band, heading to the club without telling me, her husband." I asked, anger rising, "What aren't you telling me?" They avoided my gaze. Frustrated, I rushed to the club, driving faster than usual. I arrived in minutes. Inside, I saw Jillian dancing closely with another guy. My heart sank as people from the reunion watched with pity. Lena touched my shoulder, startling me. "This is Jillian's first love, Troy," she

explained. "They grew up together and dated through high school. He got a scholarship, and they broke up when he left." I watched them dance, feeling betrayed. Lena continued, "He's been back for a few months, transferred with his job." "They don't seem too broken up," I muttered. Lena added, "They were meant to be together, Greg." Her voice held a mix of emotions. As the song ended, Troy kissed Jillian. My anger peaked as I clenched my fists, drawing blood. Jillian noticed me and approached, leaving Troy behind. "Troy was my first love, Greg. We promised to reunite when

he came back," she said bluntly. "So you reunited?" I replied sarcastically. "Don't be like that," Jillian scolded. "Troy and I are meant to be together." "We're married, Jillian!" I retorted. "I'm sorry, Greg, but we need to divorce. Troy and I have a deeper connection." People were staring, and a bouncer approached. "Greg, you've never been—" she trailed off. "I love you, but our love isn't like mine with Troy!" Jillian declared. Troy joined us, putting his arm around Jillian. "You must be Greg," he said with fake concern. "That's Gregory to you," I snapped. "Okay, I get it,"

he replied. "You're upset. We've been together since I got back. She's divorcing you." Jillian turned pale, hoping it wouldn't come out. Realizing his mistake, Troy pushed Jillian behind him, ready to defend. "Look, Gregory," Troy said, trying to sound conciliatory. "I'm sorry you found out this way, but maybe it's for the best. Jillian says you've been a great husband. It would be nice if we could all be friends since we share so many mutual friends." "Not for long," I said, looking at Jillian before turning back to Troy. He piled on and tried to respond, but I

spoke first. "So let me get this straight," I said, suppressing my growing anger. The music stopped, and everyone turned to listen. "You two had true love, then Troy moved away. Jillian and I met, fell in love, and got married. Now Troy's back, and you two rekindled your relationship behind my back. Clearly, everyone else knew, and now I'm humiliated!" "Greg, it wasn't supposed to be—" Jillian started. "Wasn't supposed to be what?" I shouted. "You've ignored me all week, dragged me here, then ditched me! You left without telling me just so I'd catch you here!" "Hey," Troy

tried to interject, but I stopped him. "Don't say a word, Romeo," I growled. "You're both unfaithful! You've been seeing each other for months. Back off!" "Look, Greg," Troy said, trying to calm the situation. "Jillian and I are meant to be together. We're sorry you got hurt, but she loves me, and we're going to get married. You and she need to divorce." "Naturally," I replied coldly. "Gregory," Jillian said. "I'm sorry, but this is the best way. It will hurt, but it's for the best." She paused, trying to read my mood. "It's Gregory, not Greg," I corrected.

She gulped. "Gregory, she..." “Gregory,” I said. “I know you're hurting, but we're still young. You'll find someone else.” My eye twitched, making her pale even more. “Gregory, I think it's best if you leave,” Troy said. “Everyone here knows Jillian and I belong together, and you're just the third wheel.” I smiled, and half the room looked at me questioningly. “On that we agree,” he smiled, thinking I understood. “Now that it's out in the open, Jillian and I will stay away from your house this weekend and next week so you can move out.” “Move out?” I asked,

tilting my head. “Well, it's Jillian's house,” Troy said. “I see,” I replied, narrowing my eyes. “Gregory, my soon-to-be ex-wife said we thought it would be easier for you. The house is perfect for Troy and me to have kids. It's too big for you.” “I see,” I repeated, the last syllable hissing. The silence stretched on until the DJ resumed the music. No one started dancing; everyone watched to see what would happen. Troy spoke loudly. “I'm sorry, Gregory, but this is the situation. I know it's hard, but don't take offense.” He held out his hand. I stared

at it and then back at him. He quickly withdrew his hand, deciding it was time to leave. I turned and walked out. No one stopped me. The bouncers opened the doors, and the noise from inside died down. “Are you okay?” one of the bouncers asked. “No, not really,” I replied. The other bouncer said, “If you wanted to go back and give that a-hole a couple punches, we could wait a few minutes before pulling you out.” For the first time all day, I laughed. The bouncers smirked. “While tempting, I don't need a night in the gatehouse,”

I said. Both nodded. “I've seen some nasty breakups, but this is one of the coldest,” the first bouncer said. “I'm sorry,” I waved off the sympathy. “Don't worry about it. I'll just go home and change the locks.” “The second bouncer added,” I raised an eyebrow and smiled. We talked a bit more before I shook their hands and left. On the way home, I stopped at a hardware store. It was late, but I quickly bought new locks, deadbolts, moving boxes, and packing tape. Once home, I changed the locks and started packing Jillian's things. A few hours

later, exhausted and feeling utterly abandoned, I sat down with a Kraken and soda. I opened my laptop, canceled our joint credit cards, opened a new account, and transferred half of our joint savings. I found our legal folder with house deeds, investment properties, and our prenuptial agreement. While it didn't cover infidelity, it protected my business assets. I slept fitfully but managed a few hours. In the morning, I found a café and enjoyed a fusion breakfast. While there, I drafted a letter to a lawyer friend explaining the situation. He called, shocked, but assured me he'd file the

divorce papers Monday and refer me to someone who could help. When I got home, Mark and Lena were waiting in the driveway. I parked on the curb, and Lena started, “Greg—” I raised my hand, stopping her. “It's Gregory.” “Excuse me?” Lena asked. “My name is Gregory. Only friends can call me Greg.” “Listen, buddy,” Mark began, trying to be conciliatory. “We're sorry about last night.” It's not like—I raised my hand again, silencing him. I looked at a tree across the road, one of its limbs torn off by a storm, and felt it mirrored my situation. Losing

Jillian felt like losing a limb. Tears streamed down my face as I turned back to Mark and Lena. “Don't you dare make excuses,” I hissed. “You've known Jillian's been cheating for months and said nothing.” “But Gregory—” “It's true,” Lena started. “Love,” I interrupted. “Real love doesn't betray and humiliate.” I thought what Jillian and I had was true love. I never doubted her; I worshiped her and would have given her everything. “I know,” Lena said, tears in her eyes. “But Jillian—” “Stop!” I shouted, my rage boiling over. My tears disappeared. “Stop!” I repeated quietly. “I don't

want to hear another word about Jillian and Troy. I just wasted the last seven years of my life—years of supporting Jillian through her struggles, encouraging her growth, enduring severe period pains, family planning, and talking about growing old together. I was only her Plan B. Why does Troy get to come back and take everything I worked for?” They looked at me like I didn't understand. I continued, my pain and anguish bursting out. “He gets all my efforts, the woman I helped rebuild, and all her friends who betrayed me.” At least they looked ashamed. “Well, screw it!”

I exclaimed. “Get off my property!” Mark tried to interject. “Greg—” I glared at him. “I get it; you thought Jillian and I would be happy forever. But Troy is back, and they deserve to be happy, right? What about me and my happiness?” I asked. They had no answer. “I deserve a faithful wife and friends who care. I don't need your pity! If I seem bitter, it's because I am. Put yourself in my shoes,” I said. “Mark, when Lena leaves you for her true love, you'll understand.” Mark tightened his grip on Lena's arm, silencing her. “All

right, Gregory,” he said. “We're leaving. But is there anything we can do?” I looked at their minivan. “Wait here.” I brought out several boxes of Jillian's things and threw them in front of them. Fragile items shattered. “Take these to Jillian's new place.” “But Jillian said she needs the house, and you're going to move—” Lena said. I laughed. “It's not her house! Tell her not to come back. Everything that belongs to her is in these boxes. My lawyers will send the divorce papers on Monday.” “You didn't even—” Lena started. “Fight?” I interrupted. “No, she's in love

with him.” She cheated on me, and she's been lying for years; she gets what she deserves. I watched them load the boxes into their van and drive away. They realized they had lost my friendship, but I wasn't there to see their remorse. That night, I got drunk and cried. I trashed the living room in my rage, breaking a vase from our first wedding anniversary and smashing furniture. I punched holes in the hallway walls, ripped off cabinet doors, and dented the refrigerator. I woke up with a hangover, a headache, bloody knuckles, possibly a broken hand, and

scratches all over. I bandaged myself and knew I'd need to see a doctor. The living room was destroyed, the hallway walls were damaged, and the kitchen was a mess. I remembered the twisted satisfaction of hitting the dented refrigerator. In the dented refrigerator, I found expired orange juice, took a couple of Panadol tablets, and drank a Big Gulp. After half an hour, the throbbing subsided. I moved to the living room, sat on the floor between broken chairs, and stared at the cracked TV. The day passed in a blur. I went to the doctor, who found hairline

fractures in both arms and bandaged them. I ignored messages from people, including Mark and Lena. That night, I went to bed without recalling much of the day, except for the TV and the doctor visit. Monday morning, I went to the office. I checked emails and prepared for a 9:00 a.m. team meeting. My receptionist, Colleen, entered, saw my bandages, and sat down. "Bad weekend?" she asked. I sighed and turned to her. "Jillian dumped me for her true love," I said flatly. "What?" Colleen exclaimed. "No, you're serious?" I raised my bandaged hands, eyes watering. "It's true. At

the reunion, everyone knew Jillian had been cheating with Troy. They ambushed me Friday night." I broke down, and Colleen hugged me. I told her how I had smashed the furniture in a drunken rage and how I had visited the doctor. By morning, we dried our eyes and prepared for the meeting. Colleen led the team into the meeting room. "Hope everyone had a good weekend," I said, noting their glances at my bandages. "This week," I began, but Colleen interrupted. "I'm sorry, Gregory, but you can't pretend everything is normal after what happened." I hesitated, then nodded. Colleen

explained, "Gregory was betrayed by his wife and friends. Jillian had been cheating and left him in a humiliating way." She paused, looking at James. "Isn't that right, James?" James, one of Jillian's classmates, turned pale. "Uh," he said, "were you there Friday night?" Colleen asked. "Yes," but James began. "And did you know about the affair?" Colleen pressed. James lowered his gaze. "I knew," he admitted quietly. The room fell silent, bristling with anger toward James. "James," Colleen said, "you need to leave and think about your future here. If we find you supported Jillian, you'll be dismissed. Understand?"

He swallowed and stood. "I understand," he said, leaving the room quietly. No one spoke; for the most part, I'd forgotten that James had been in the room on Friday. I hardly noticed anyone except those ruining my life. I cleared my throat. "Everyone," I said, bringing us back to the present. "My personal life is a mess, and my weekend wasn't pleasant." I held up my bandaged hands. "But we have work to do and clients to serve. Let's support each other, and if you need anything, let Colleen know. I'll be here, but bear with me." I nearly

cried as everyone expressed sympathy and encouragement. "One last thing," I said, "don't crucify James just yet. Let him get the whole story before blaming him." Everyone muttered but agreed. Colleen ran the rest of the meeting. Afterward, I went back to my office and stared out the window. A few minutes later, Colleen knocked and entered with James. "You and James need to talk," Colleen said. I nodded, settling into my chair. James sat across from me, looking down. "So," I said, an accusation in my voice. "Gregory," James started, then laughed briefly. "Something funny?" asked Colleen, her tone

stern. James smiled sadly. "No, nothing's funny. My boss was betrayed, my wife yelled at me all day, and I might lose my job. It's gallows humor or tears." I smiled cautiously. "James, start at the beginning." He nodded. "You've heard how perfect Jillian and Troy were in high school?" I nodded. "Yes, recently that's all I've heard." James continued. "I was a math major, not in the popular crowd, but we all knew Jillian and Troy. They broke up before graduation when Troy went abroad. Jillian was devastated. Then I found out Troy had a girlfriend in the States."

I nodded again; I had heard Jillian's side when I helped her get back on her feet. We kissed for the first time after one of those conversations. "That's how it was until recently," James continued. "I got my degree, married Sherry, and got a job here. I was surprised and happy to see Jillian with you, knowing Troy's departure had hurt her." James paused, and I asked, "When did you find out about their affair?" "About an hour before you and Jillian showed up for dinner," he said. "A few classmates mentioned Jillian leaving you for Troy, and everyone

was surprised." I gave James a questioning look. He sighed. "Before dinner, only a few people knew what was happening, but by then everyone in the class knew Jillian and Troy were meant to be together. Mark and Lena took Sherry and me aside and explained they felt sorry for you but said you weren't part of Jillian's future anymore." James looked pained; he was blushing and maybe even teary-eyed. "Sorry, Gregory, we couldn't stay for dinner. Sherry wanted to be there for you, but Mark and some guys escorted us out, telling us to stay away." I started feeling

guilty, but he raised his hand to stop me. "I'm sorry, Gregory, I need to finish this. I promised Sherry." I nodded; I was stunned. He continued, "We were banished from the reunion because your wife was going to betray you. Sherry and I didn't know what to do, so we went to the club. We wanted to be there for you." "What happened?" I asked. "I didn't see you there." "We were there when you arrived, but a few guys kept us from getting to you until Jillian told you. When you left, we ran after you, but you

were gone. We stood outside the club for half an hour, unsure what to do. Eventually, we went back inside." James paused, then continued, "When we returned, half the class shunned us, and the other half were disgusted. They surrounded us and wouldn't let anyone near us for the rest of the evening." "And?" I prompted. "They acted like you were nothing," James said, swallowing. "This had been planned for months. There was talk that Jillian and Troy were planning to get married soon." He looked down, clenching his hands. "Sher and I fought all night. We were repulsed by

their behavior." James pulled a piece of paper from his notebook and placed it in front of me. "What's this?" I asked, reading it quickly. "My resignation," he said, defeated. It was signed and dated yesterday. "James, I began—" "No, Gregory," he replied. "What they did was wrong, and I couldn't help you. You deserve better. Sher and I agreed; I'd rather resign than have you see me and be reminded of Friday night." We sat in silence. I looked at his resignation letter and laughed—a short, bark-like laugh. Colleen and James looked at me. "I tore the letter in

two. Your resignation is rejected," I said. Behind us, Colleen smiled. James looked shocked. "But Gregory, why?" he stammered. "My friends call me Greg. You tried to help me and sympathize with me. If that's not a friend, I don't know what is." James nodded. "Sherry and I thought it was for the best." "I know," I replied, "and that's why I want you both to stay." We talked for half an hour, then Colleen, James, and I called everyone back into the conference room. I explained that James had been blindsided too and was ejected because of the situation.

Any animosity toward James disappeared, and everyone left with smiles. The rest of the week, I spent most of my time in the office, counseling my staff and working on my divorce. I didn't end up mailing the divorce papers; Jillian filed them at work. Infidelity isn't a mandatory factor in divorce in Australia, but I made sure my lawyers, Mike and his assistant, Sally, included it in the legal documents. After Jillian received the papers, I ignored her calls and texts, assuming they were angry. I managed bank accounts, listed assets, checked, canceled cards, and insurance. My team handled

the legal paperwork, ensuring Jillian couldn't touch anything. Colleen stopped by my house on Tuesday night and was shocked by the devastation. She cried as she walked through the rooms. By Wednesday, she had contacted my insurance agency and arranged a damage assessment. By Friday, appraisers and cleanup crews were scheduled for the following week. Exhausted by Friday night, I still didn't sleep well. On Saturday morning, I went for a run, ending up at a cafe where I enjoyed coffee and a croissant before jogging home. To my surprise, Jillian was sitting on the steps when I arrived. She

looked disheveled, dressed in mismatched clothes. "Greg, it's good to see you," Jillian began. I spat out a ball of phlegm, interrupting her. "What? Are you surprised I'm taking care of myself after you betrayed me? Afraid I'd eliminate myself or be a wreck?" She took a step back, pale. "It wasn't like that, Greg. I never meant to hurt you." "Yeah, right," I said. "You set everything up to humiliate me in front of everyone." She looked down. "It wasn't my idea. Mark and Troy thought if we did it this way, you wouldn't resist." I laughed bitterly. "You

think I'd fight for you after you betrayed me? You're delusional." "But no buts!" I hissed. "You lost any right to my respect when you cheated. Now get lost!" "Greg, you can't talk to me like that. I'm still your wife!" Jillian said, her anger rising. "Huh?" I said, walking to the front door and unlocking it. When she tried to follow, I stopped her. "You're not invited." "But Greg, this is still my house too!" she insisted. "No, it isn't. It belongs to a trust, and I pay rent on it." She looked confused. "Jillian, this isn't your house

anymore. You don't live here." "Wait! I have something for you!" I went inside, texted my lawyer, grabbed a few things, and returned to the door. Jillian was still there. "Greg, I—" I raised my hand. "First, it's Gregory. Only friends call me Greg, and you're not a friend." She gulped. "Second," I handed her a folder, "here's a check for your half of our assets." Her eyes widened. "Third, you have something for me?" She hesitated, then pulled a manila envelope from her purse. "I'm sorry, Gregory." "You will be," I said. I opened the envelope and read the

documents. She wanted 75% of our savings and 50% of my business along with a restraining order. "Really?" I asked, raising my eyebrows. She couldn't meet my gaze; she knew they had gone too far. I called my divorce attorney while Jillian stood there looking defeated. "Sally, my divorce attorney, picked up on the second ring. 'Hi, Sally. Jillian is here demanding I respond to the divorce petition and slapping me with a restraining order that includes my house, which she no longer lives in.'" I listened to Sally swear, watching Jillian turn red as she... Heard it! Sally assured

me she'd handle it. I turned to Jillian. "How does it feel to be one of the most disgusting humans, Jillian?" She was silent for a moment. "It's not like that, Greg," Orie, she said quietly. "I convinced Troy to give you until Monday to move out so we can move in." I laughed. "You can't move in; it's not your house." "But you can't be here," she replied irritably. I shrugged. "Maybe, but that doesn't mean you can be here either. It's time for you to leave, Jillian. I'd wish you well, but that would be a lie." "Do

you hate me that much?" she asked, looking at my bandaged hands. "Do you seriously have the nerve to ask me that after everything?" I answered, "You were my best friend, and you destroyed it all." Jillian looked down. "It wasn't my idea. Mark and Troy thought it would be easier this way." I laughed bitterly. "You think I'd fight for you after you betrayed me? But no 'buts.' You lost any right to my respect when you cheated. Now get lost." "Greg, you can't talk to me like that. I'm still your wife," Jillian said, her anger rising. "Huh?"

I said, unlocking the door. When she tried to follow, I stopped her. "You're not invited." "But Greg, this is still my house too," she insisted. "No, it isn't. The house belongs to a trust; you don't live here anymore." "Wait, I have something for you." I went inside, texted my lawyer, grabbed a few things, and returned. Jillian was still there. "Greg." "It's Gregory. Only friends call me Greg, and you're not a friend," she gulped. "Second," I handed her a folder. "Here's a check for your half of our assets." Her eyes widened. "Third, you have something for

me." She pulled a manila envelope from her purse. "I'm sorry, Gregory." "You will be," I said. I opened the envelope and read the documents. She wanted 75% of our savings and 50% of my business, along with a restraining order. "Really?" I asked. She couldn't meet my gaze; she knew they had gone too far. At that moment, I saw Mark and Lena approaching with Troy in the distance. "Oh look, our friends," I hissed. "Greg," Mark said, coming up behind Jillian. "Calm down, buddy." "Back off, a-hole," I replied. "We're not friends; your betrayal is as bad as

hers. You have nothing to say that will help." I glared at Mark and Lena. "You both helped set up that scene at the club to humiliate me. You're as guilty as Jillian and Troy." "Greg," Lena began. "Don't," I interrupted. "Don't you dare, Lena. You helped my wife cheat on me and set me up for maximum humiliation. If you think that's love, then there's no hope for society." They looked stunned. I stopped, then had an idea. "Lena, will you forgive Mark when he comes home smelling of perfume after spending the night at a strip club?" I

smiled condescendingly. Lena looked at Mark. "Baby, that's not true," Mark stammered. I laughed. "No, it's not true. But Mark likes to brag about special lap dances during our golf games." Lena sensed the truth. Mark took a step back and ran down the road with Lena chasing him, yelling. I looked at Troy, who was staring in surprise, then at Jillian with a smug grin. "Greg," she said hesitantly. "I mean, Gregory, you didn't have to do that." I grinned. "Don't worry, Jillian. This is just the first shot. Mark still has a lot of secrets, and this is

just the beginning. You and Troy won't like what's coming next." "What do you mean?" Jillian asked. "Go away, Jillian. Tell Troy to take you far away, because if you stay, things will get worse for you." "Greg, what's wrong with you? Where is the man I love?" she asked. "He's dead. You ripped my heart and soul out, and what's left is something dark." I stepped back and slammed the door, letting out a villainous chuckle. Ten minutes later, I looked outside and saw that Jillian and Troy in the truck were gone. I sat on the floor, shaking

from the confrontation, and broke down again. I loved her but hated her, wanting her to feel regret. I knew she wouldn't come back, and even if she did, I couldn't accept her again. The next month was filled with lawyers, financial disclosures, and dividing assets. My staff rallied around me; Colleen helped me find a counselor, and I moved into an apartment. Colleen organized cleaning and repairs for the house. Despite wanting a clean break, Jillian fought over many things. First, she claimed $155,000 of our $20,000 in bank accounts. She also tried to claim our house and investment

properties, but they were owned by a trust and unavailable to her. She fought with lawyers, likely paid by Troy, but failed. I smiled knowing she lost any return on that investment. Next, she wanted furniture and jewelry. I had her belongings packed and delivered to her, including shoes, earrings, and necklaces. She also claimed half of my business, but the prenuptial agreement laid out by Sally denied her any part of it. Jillian ended up with $10,000, likely spent on lawyers, while I kept my houses and business. Sally also got Jillian to give up her wedding and engagement

rings. The restraining order was lifted since Jillian had no rights to the house. The locks had been changed, and a security company checked the house until I moved back in. We waited a couple of months for the divorce to finalize. James and Sherry asked everyone to back off, and Jillian and Troy moved into an apartment provided by his company. Troy expected a house, but he got nothing. In August, two weeks before the final divorce during tax season, I was busy with work when one day I was surprised to see an entrepreneur friend. Waiting for me,

I never thought I would see their faces again. "Gregory, come on, you have to help me," pleaded Mark, sitting at a table in our meeting room. Lena sat next to him, eyes downcast; their relationship seemed strained, likely due to our last encounter. "Why?" I asked, enjoying their discomfort. James sat next to me. We had done taxes for Mark's import-export business for years. It was a tough job ensuring everything was correct, but we were paid well. Mark could have gone to another firm, but it would have cost him more and taken years for them to understand

his business. "Really? Are you really going to make me beg?" said Mark, his voice pleading. I laughed. James smiled. "Begging would be nice, but futile. Why are you here? You planned to humiliate me, made excuses, and didn't care about my feelings. Now you want my help?" No one spoke. "You know you were right," Lena said quietly. I raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?" Lena looked at Mark, then back at me, anger passing over her face before turning to sadness. Mark lowered his gaze. "You were right," she said sadly, "not just about Mark's behavior, but

everything. We were so caught up in Troy and Jillian's romance that we didn't think about you." I was about to reply, but Lena continued. "I saw the truth in Mark's eyes when you confronted us. We knew it was wrong but lied to ourselves about true love. Some, like my husband, used it to cover their own cheating." I looked at the broken couple. Mark couldn't meet our eyes, and Lena was near a breakdown. "So, what now?" I asked. "Lena? G, bitterly." "Now we face the consequences. We've hurt those we loved, and my marriage is on the

brink. I don't know if it will survive." I looked at Mark, who remained silent. "I can't say I'm not pleased you're both suffering," I said softly, "but as managing partner, I've decided it's not in our best interest to continue handling your company." Mark's shoulders slumped; however, I continued. Mark looked up with hope. "I can recommend three firms to take on your account." James handed over a sheet of paper. "If you're interested, let James know, and we'll send your financial statements to them." "That's it?" asked Mark. "A recommendation? Are you really done with us?" "Yes," I

replied, shrugging. "You ruined my marriage by supporting Jillian and Troy, using terms like 'true love.' You laughed and joked about it. This is the consequence." With that, I left the room without saying goodbye. Later, James informed me they had chosen a firm and would complete the transfer once Mark and Lena signed the forms. Over the next month, three more clients—all Jillian's classmates who supported her infidelity—realized I wouldn't do business with them anymore. Despite losing four clients, I gained six others who didn't support what happened and wanted to help. By September, the divorce was final. I

had moved back into the renovated house, and my hands had healed. The day I received the divorce paperwork, Jillian called and texted me, saying goodbye. "Gregory, I'm sorry." I wasn't sure how to feel. The betrayal still hurt, but I knew if Jillian could leave me so easily, she wasn't the one for me. That weekend, Colleen and my team surprised me with a family barbecue at my place. Over two dozen people came, including Colleen, James, and Sherry, ensuring I was never alone. At one point, while James manned the barbecue, Sherry sat with me, watching kids play

in my yard, hurt knowing Jillian and I would never have the children we talked about. Sherry kissed my cheek and said, "Life will happen again, Greg. You'll have the support of friends, co-workers, and family. We're here for you." Sherry hugged me as I cried. James, Colleen, and others offered support throughout the day, and despite being a wreck, I felt comforted. The following week at work, I felt much better. The staff noticed my improved mood, and I even joked with them at the weekly meeting. I thanked everyone, especially James, Colleen, and Sherry, for their support. We

gained three new clients, including two large corporations needing in-depth financial analysis. I decided to handle a forensic audit, diving back into work in the evenings. I established a routine of cooking dinner and working out, determined to rise above the betrayal. Two weeks after the barbecue, on a Thursday night, I was cooking dinner when the doorbell rang. I opened the door to a nervous but beautiful blonde woman. Before I could speak, she kissed me, pulling me down by my shirt. Her kiss was soft and minty, and I kissed her back, holding her close. After an indeterminate

time, we parted, and I saw tears in her eyes. Before I could greet her, she slapped me—not hard, more of a gesture. I stood in shock. "I'm sorry, Gregory. That wasn't the best way to say hello," she said, her voice sultry yet firm. I tilted my head, wondering who she was. "Sure," I said, leaving the question unanswered. The woman smiled. "Rebecca." "Rebecca," I repeated. We stood in silence for a moment. "So, Rebecca, what brings you here tonight?" "You," she said simply. "I guessed that from your greeting, but why did you come to see me?" I

asked with a slight smile. "Because you need me here," she replied, smiling back. "True. So tell me, why do I need you?" "I enjoy kissing a beautiful woman, but the slap confused me." She looked amused. "Do you think I'm beautiful?" I nodded. "And gorgeous." Her smile widened, and I was captivated by this woman I had just met. "Thank you, Gregory," she said, blushing. "Does something smell nice?" she asked, sniffing the air. I sighed contentedly and opened the door, inviting her in. We chatted as... I led her to the kitchen, poured her a glass of Shiraz,

and continued cooking dinner. I quickly prepared a second plate for Rebecca; she watched me cook, holding her wine but not drinking it. I set the table, dimmed the lights, and served the food. Rebecca giggled. "Our first date, and you ordered for me! A woman likes a man who knows what he wants," I replied. Rebecca laughed, then raised her glass to Gregory, showing that even wounded, he still knows how to treat a lady. We clinked glasses and smiled. Rebecca took a bite of the dish, and her eyes widened. "Gregory, this is amazing! Thank you." I nodded,

tasting the food. It was delicious. "So, Rebecca, no more games. Who are you and what's going on?" She took another bite and a sip of wine before speaking. "First, thank you, Gregory. You handled my greeting with grace. I stood at your door for almost 20 minutes before knocking." I nodded, sipping my wine. "As for who I am, we've met before. I'm Colleen's niece." "Ah, Rebecca! Yes, you look very different than the last time we met," I replied. She smiled, and I remembered her goth phase. She had dyed black hair, piercings, and heavy makeup. "I was

coming out of a period of self-destruction," she said, smiling. "I had just broken up with my boyfriend and was lost. Aunt Colleen brought me to your office after talking to my mom for a change of scenery." I nodded, recalling the meeting; she had come to the office dressed in all black with piercings. "He cheated on me with three people. Two girls and a guy," she said bluntly. I almost choked on my wine. "What?" "Yes," she said, looking into her wine glass. "We were at a club, went back to a guy's place, and I found them

together. I ran home and cried for days. Mom convinced me to go for a walk with Aunt Colleen, and that's when she brought me to your office." I smiled. "I remember Aunt Colleen introduced us, and you shook my hand. You didn't look at me like I was pathetic. You didn't judge me for how I was dressed or my piercings. Do you remember what you asked me?" I nodded. "I asked you what kind of coffee you wanted." Rebecca smiled. "Yes! Mocha with a double shot of chocolate." We said it at the same time, laughing. "You remember?"

she asked. I nodded, taking another sip of wine. Her smile faded. "The slap was because I was at the barbecue that day, and you didn't notice me," she said, looking into my eyes. "I'm sorry, Rebecca. It was a rough day," I said. She smiled faintly. "It's okay, Gregory. It wasn't meant to be serious. I just mentally kissed you and then slapped you because you didn't notice me. I even hugged you and told you everything would be okay, but I guess you don't remember much of that day." I had a vague image of slender arms and

dark blue jeans with a red blouse telling me everything would be okay. "Do you remember?" she asked. "Sort of. Red top, blue jeans." Rebecca nodded. "I asked Aunt Colleen about you the other day," she said, blushing slightly. "She knew I had a crush on you and encouraged me to come over and talk to you." I chuckled. "Did you plan to kiss me?" "No," Rebecca blushed. "I didn't know if I could do it, but when you opened the door, I just went for it." I smiled and took her hand. "I'm glad you did. It was the

best thing that's happened to me in months." Rebecca smiled, and we spent three hours talking. She helped me clean up dinner, and we continued our conversation over port, moving to the living room. I learned she was 28, four years younger than me, and a recent finance graduate. She liked various music but hated power metal. After her goth phase, she became a junior accountant at a manufacturing firm and enjoyed her work. She was close to her family, with parents married for 30 years and a younger sister in New Zealand. She loved the beach but had sensitive

skin and had only had two boyfriends, including the goth who betrayed her. We talked about our lives. I shared that I was estranged from my mother after my father's sudden passing caused family strife. My younger sister also caused a rift by taking Jillian's comment out of context. By 1:00 a.m., Rebecca decided to leave, though we were both tempted to continue. As I climbed into bed, I smiled for the first time since my life had fallen apart. Rebecca's bold actions bypassed months of trying to overcome my defenses and showed me that someone could care about me

romantically. The next morning, my smile was undeniable, and everyone noticed. By lunchtime, Colleen cornered me. "Okay, spill it, Greg! Who is she?" she asked hopefully. "Rebecca came over last night," I told her. Colleen's joyous shriek echoed through the office. She made me recount everything, laughing at the kiss and the slap. "Greg, I'm so happy for you! Even if nothing comes of this, seeing you come out from under what Jillian and that a-hole did is worth it. But I think there's something between you and Rebecca." We talked a bit more, and I told Colleen that Rebecca

and I had been texting all day and were having dinner Friday night. She was thrilled, and her happiness spread to everyone else. Friday night came, and I picked up Rebecca. I asked her to dress up for our first official date. She looked stunning when she opened the door. "Wow! I'm batting a thousand so far," she laughed. "Every time we meet." "Hello, beautiful," I said. "Better," Rebecca said, smiling. We walked hand in hand to my car and... When I opened the door, she stopped. "Is this your car?" she asked. "Yeah," I said. Rebecca's jaw dropped. "Yes,

I'm a Mustang enthusiast, but not just any Mustang. I have a 1967 GT, classic gray with black racing stripes and a modified exhaust." I was surprised Jillian didn't try to get it in the divorce; she knew it was my pride and joy. I opened the passenger door for Rebecca, and she smiled as she settled in. When I started the car, she giggled as the V8 engine roared. We drove into town, chatting about our weeks and how Colleen had high hopes for us. We had dinner at an upscale Japanese restaurant, trying various dishes and a bit

of sake, which we both agreed was fun for a date but not for regular consumption. After dinner, we went to the casino, made a few bets, and left with $600 more than we started with. There was a club in the casino, so we dressed up and went in. It was an upscale club with a diverse crowd. Throughout the evening, guys approached Rebecca to dance, but she politely declined each time. At one point, a guy stopped me and said, "You're a lucky guy; your woman only has eyes for you." I asked her to dance, but she

turned me down flat. He was a sturdy, good-looking guy, probably a personal trainer or football player. He patted my shoulder, smiled, and walked away. Saturday morning, I woke up smiling, remembering the night with Rebecca. We spent the weekend in bed, only getting up to bathe or get food. When it was time for work, I drove Rebecca back to her apartment in her Friday night dress. By the time I got to the office, I had two more pictures of my girlfriend. Rebecca stayed with me every night that week, except Wednesday when she had to work late.

"Hey, Greg," James said one Tuesday after going out for coffee. "Do you have a few minutes?" He closed the door behind him. "Sure," I said, raising an eyebrow. "So, you and Rebecca are doing well," he asked. "Yeah," I grinned. "It's only been a few months, but it feels like six." James looked worried. "Sherry and I have been together for almost five years, but it feels like ten—in a good way." I held up my hand, grinning. "I get it." James nodded. "Sherry and I are happy to see you smiling again. We were wondering if you and

Rebecca would like to have dinner at our place Saturday night." "I'll check with Becky, but I think we're free." "Um, Greg," James continued nervously, "It's about Jillian." I sighed. "What about her?" "Do you know about the Kensington audit we're doing?" he asked. I nodded. Kensington was one of the large multinationals we had taken on, and James was leading the audit. "We found some issues," he said, laying out reports. "It seemed one of their middle managers had been embezzling money for years, using it for undesirable services, includingcorans and supporting a mistress and child in the US.

The man cleverly hid the thefts across different cost centers and projects, totaling just under $2 million." I was stunned by the implications. "So let me get this straight," I said to James. "For over four years, he's been using company money to pay for corons, and for the last three years, he's been using it for child support for a woman and child overseas?" James nodded. "Exactly." "Wow," I tried not to smile. "So much for true love." James snorted. A month later, we gave Kensington the initial report but withheld details until we completed file tracking. They were

concerned about internal corruption and agreed to wait for a thorough investigation. We asked for another month, and they agreed. Two weeks later, I came home on Friday to find Rebecca had set up a candlelight dinner. She poured me a Kraken and soda, and we enjoyed chicken boskaoa. I noticed a box between us but didn't mention it. After dinner, we moved to the living room with refilled drinks, dimmed lights, and soft music. "Greg, the last six months have been the best of my life," Rebecca said. "I know you were broken when we met, but so was

I. Our relationship has been amazing because we give ourselves completely to each other. I love you, Gregory, and I need you to know that before you open the box." Rebecca handed me the box. It was small, like a box for headphones, with an envelope on top. I opened the envelope and read the letter inside. "Gregory, inside this box is the engagement ring you bought last week. I found it while cleaning, and you were in the shower. I hope you open the box, take out the ring, and ask me to marry you. I love you so

much. Sincerely and forever, Rebecca. P.S. Love you, love you, love you." I looked at Rebecca, who was filled with hope. "I love you too," I said, as I opened the box to find the ring I had bought. It was a simple gold ring with a single diamond. Rebecca smiled. "I never looked inside. I wanted to, but I didn't." I got down on one knee. "Rebecca Beth Brown, you brought me back to life. Before you kissed me, I thought I'd never be happy again. You showed me how much you wanted to be mine, and I can't

imagine a more perfect partner. I was planning to do this at your family barbecue, but I can't wait any longer. Rebecca Beth Brown, will you marry me?" Rebecca jumped up and shouted, "Yes!" She held out her hand, and I slipped the ring on her finger before we kissed. "Thank you, my fiancée," I told her. "You're going to have the most caring wife in the world, and wait until we have..." "Kids!" A minute later, the doorbell rang. I groaned, but answered it, finding Colleen, Rebecca's parents, James and Sherry. "Congratulations!" they all shouted. Rebecca wrapped her arms

around me. "Sorry, babe. I wanted to celebrate our engagement, so I invited a few people over. Last surprise for the night, I promise," she said. We ushered everyone inside, and her parents brought two bottles of champagne. As they handed out glasses, I tried to feign offense, but I couldn't help but smile. While Rebecca showed off her ring to the ladies, I got backslaps from my future father-in-law and James. We spent the evening laughing at stories about Rebecca's childhood. When everyone left, Rebecca and I headed to bed, but not before taking a few more pictures of

her engagement ring, though in those photos, it was the only thing she was wearing. A month later, three significant events happened within 48 hours. First, we delivered the completed forensic report to Kensington. They were not happy, and heads would roll, but they agreed to wait for a thorough investigation. Second, Rebecca visited my office with wedding ideas and legal documents. When I saw the prenup, I got upset. "Becca, this prenup leaves you with almost nothing," I said, frustrated. "It only leaves me with nothing if I cheat on you, which I will never do," she replied. "In

all other cases, we split everything, and your business remains safe." "Becca, I know you're trying to protect me, but the protections I already have are enough." She held my hands. "This is my promise to you: I will only walk away with nothing if I cheat on you. Trust me." I signed the document, trusting her completely. We discussed it several times, but in the end, she was right, and it went to the file cabinet. The third event happened the next evening at home. Rebecca, who had moved in permanently, sent me to shower. When I got out

of the shower, I heard screaming. Throwing on shorts, I rushed out to find my ex-wife, Jillian, yelling at Rebecca. "So I move out, and he moves in!" Jillian shouted. Rebecca laughed. "You left the most loving man on this planet and broke his heart." "Yes, I agree with that. However, I am Gregory's personal strumpet. He gets my body freely for his exclusive use. Could you say the same when you were married to him?" Rebecca snapped back. Jillian shouted, "You little strumpet!" and a slap echoed through the room. I hurried in, finding Jillian with a red mark

on her cheek. "Rebecca," I said with a smile, "meet Jillian, my ex-wife. Jillian, meet Rebecca, my fiancée." They stared at each other as I stepped between them. "Do you find this amusing, Greg?" Jillian asked. "Actually, yeah. Since you weren't invited and started yelling before getting slapped, I find it funny. Maybe it's a little karma for how our life together ended," Rebecca grinned, but I held up my hand. "That's enough, Becca. What do you want, Jillian?" I sighed. "Why did you have to ruin my life?" she asked. "What do you mean? Jillian, I haven't had anything

to do with you for almost a year. You left me for true love, and damn the consequences." Rebecca snorted behind me. "You didn't have to destroy Troy," Jillian said mournfully. I laughed. "You're going to have to be more specific, Jillian. It was your forensic audit of Kensington that got Troy arrested." "You didn't have to do that," she said softly. "What? I shouldn't report to the company that one of its employees defrauded them of over $2 million, spent on CTISA and a woman and child in the US?" I asked rhetorically. "CTISA?" Jillian said, turning white. "A

woman and a child?" Clearly, whatever Jillian knew lacked substantial detail. I leaned forward. "Yes, Jillian, your true love has a woman and child in the States and stole company money to support them. It's all in the report. Want me to send it to you?" She sank to the ground, found her world collapsing. For the first time, I saw she was truly lost. Everything she believed about her life was crumbling. Rebecca and I watched as she slumped on the porch. "He got arrested, you know," Jillian said, her anger gone, replaced by hollow grief. I didn't know

Troy had been arrested, but I suspected authorities were onto him. "We've been married less than three months, and he spent a month of that in the States," Jillian sobbed. I felt a twinge of sympathy. I'd been married to her for years and shared many physical moments, but she was also my tormentor, discarding me cruelly and heartlessly. "What should I do?" Jillian asked, looking at Rebecca. "You have the nerve to ask him that after what you did?" Rebecca said firmly but without venom. "He was mine long before he was yours," Jillian replied. Rebecca laughed, hugging me

tightly. "He was never truly yours, Jillian. You never let him into your heart completely. You must have kept part of yourself away to do what you did." "That's not true," Jillian protested, looking at me. Rebecca laughed. "If you gave yourself completely, why did you cheat on him as soon as your true love returned? Why did you humiliate him and try to take his house, investments, and business? Is that giving yourself completely?" Jillian was silent, looking transparent and defeated. Rebecca, showing surprising compassion, sat next to her. "Jillian," Rebecca said softly, "you don't know my story. When

I first met Greg, he was happily married to you. I realized how much he loved you from our brief conversation. Over time, I learned more and became jealous of you." Jillian looked surprised. "When I heard what you did to him, I was furious," Rebecca continued. "But then, at Greg's barbecue, when your divorce was finalized, I saw how—" Broken, he was. Even Aunt Colleen had trouble getting through to him; he was in danger of sinking into depression. My heart broke for him. Both women looked at me: Rebecca with adoration, Jillian with sorrow. Throughout the evening, everyone

tried to comfort him. He cried openly, showing his pain. I hugged him, though he doesn't remember, and he thanked me. I realized I could help him stop his slide into bitterness and maybe find love with him. We were silent for a moment. The next week, I came here and kissed him when he opened the door. Then I slapped him. "Rebecca," said, smirking. Jillian's eyes widened. "From that moment, I belong to him entirely," Rebecca continued. "There will never be another man in my heart. Thinking about what you did makes me sick. You threw away a man

who could have given you the world. For that, I thank you. My heart and soul belong to him now, and if you hadn't discarded him, I never would have had a chance." No one said anything. We were all lost in our thoughts. "What am I supposed to do now?" Jillian asked. "I gave up everything for a dream." Rebecca shrugged. "Honestly, I don't care what you do." Jillian looked surprised. "You've let things slip out of your control, and I won't let you back into Greg's life. He's mine, and you don't want to see how crazy I'll

get if you try to interfere." Rebecca walked over to me. I found my voice. "Rebecca is right. She belongs to me, and I to her. We'll marry, have kids, and love each other until we die. I don't love you anymore, Jillian. I remember loving you, but after your betrayal and Rebecca's love, there's nothing left for you." Jillian looked utterly broken. "To be honest, I don't like you. You've hurt me more than anyone ever has, but I'll give you some advice: divorce Troy. Leave him before everything falls apart; he'll go to jail for a long time."

"Where will I go?" she asked. I shrugged. "I don't care. Maybe Mark and Lena will take you in." "They're getting a divorce," Jillian said sadly. "Not surprising; a cheating spouse will do that. You need to figure this out yourself. I'm not your friend; we're just people who once had something." "Is there no chance of being friends?" Jillian asked hopefully. "No," Rebecca and I answered together. Jillian stood up, shaking her head sadly. "Thank you for your honesty. I wish we could still be friends, but I see now it was all a dream. Take care of each

other." She walked to her car, gave us a mournful look, and drove away. Over the next month, details of Troy's arrest emerged in the press. Our audit that uncovered the fraud was in the news, and by the end of the year, we nearly doubled our staff due to high demand. Rebecca and I married in a small ceremony with friends and family. We honeymooned in North Queensland, enjoying two weeks on the golden beaches. When we returned, we settled into a routine of work, love, and planning our future. Rebecca agreed to stop birth control, and we waited

to see what would happen. Nine months later, Sarah was born. Two years later, we had twins, Henry and Peter, and our last child, Bridget, was born after that. After Bridget, we decided four kids were enough, and I had surgery. Our lives were rich and full with the usual family problems, but our home was filled with love. Thirty-two years later, on a crisp winter morning, the kids and I laid Rebecca to rest. Her battle with cancer had lasted two years. Even in her weakened state, we often laid together and she needed to feel my love. "Baby,"

Rebecca said, in pain but alert. We snuggled together. "You're going to be okay. I'm not leaving you alone." I snorted. "I know. We'll only be apart a few years before I find you," I said, stroking her graying blonde hair. Rebecca smiled, like in Canada. We both smiled, remembering the blizzard that kept me an hour away from her for three weeks, communicating only via FaceTime. "Yeah," I replied, and we smiled. "Will you miss me?" she asked. I snorted again. "You know I'll miss you with all my soul." We laid together, not needing words. After a while,

she grabbed my hand. "I'm scared," baby Rebecca said, crying quietly. "I know there's not much time left. I can feel my body shutting down." Her tears hit my chest. "We've been married over 30 years, have four children, six grandchildren, and another on the way. We traveled the world together, and now this." I whispered, "I'll be here the whole time. I'm not going anywhere." "I know," she replied. "It's the only thing that gives me strength." The next day, the children came with their families and we all sat with Rebecca. She was much weaker than before and

we knew her time was near as her skin lost color. We spent the day reminiscing, laughing, crying, and singing. The kids said their goodbyes surrounding the bed, and I hugged my wife. "I love you," I told her, feeling our time together slipping away. "I love you," she replied weakly. Her eyes dimmed, and her hand lightly slapped my cheek, reminding me of our first day together. We smiled, and she pulled me close for a kiss. In that moment, all the years melted away; she looked young and vibrant again, without a trace of cancer. We snuggled, my

tears soaking the sheets as she slipped away. I felt a part of myself was lost forever. My family surrounded me, and we cried openly. Rebecca, my true love and soulmate, was gone. I knew I'd never be the same without her, but I was also relieved she was no longer in pain, even though she was. Gone. I had daily reminders of our life together; our children were often by my side, and friends like James and Sher were always around. As months passed, I found joy in my family and friends. If I felt lonely at night, I

had countless pictures and videos of Rebecca to bring me comfort. Six months after Rebecca's passing, I was enjoying coffee at our local café when a shadow fell over me. "Gregory," said a voice I had heard in over 30 years. "Jillian," I replied, recognizing her as an older version of the woman I once loved. I gestured to the seat across from me. "Would you care to join me?" She hesitated before nodding and sitting down. As I studied her, I noticed the wrinkles, gaunt look, and lean body. I hadn't followed her life since that evening on my

porch, but it hadn't been easy. "How are you doing?" I asked. "Oh, you know, as I get older, my body doesn't react the way it used to. Sometimes I wonder if I should just stay in bed to avoid the pain," she said. I laughed, understanding her sentiment. Jillian smiled but then grew sadder. "I heard about Rebecca. I'm sorry, Greg," she said genuinely. "Thank you," I replied. "I miss her terribly, but she's always in my heart. The kids don't give me a moment's peace now that Becky's gone; they're determined to keep me active and looked after."

Jillian smiled briefly but then looked sad again. "Do you have kids?" I asked. She shook her head, looking down at her coffee with regret. "I've never had children," Jillian said. "I was married six times but never found anything like what I had with my first boyfriend. I really blew it, didn't I, Greg?" she asked, then held up her hand. "No, I know I did. I hurt you badly and blamed you for Troy tricking me into thinking we were soulmates. Every man since then hasn't been a match for you." I reflected on the woman before me.

I had hated her for a long time, but now I saw a broken, sad woman who had never found real love. "Jill," I said, catching my breath, and she looked at me with hope. "You need to forgive yourself. Not all six marriages could have been as bad as Troy's; surely a couple of them were okay." Her eyes lost focus for a moment. "You're right. Barry, my fourth husband, was kind and gentle, but after that night with you and Rebecca, I never forgave myself for what I did to you. I wanted to be loved but never

got over the pain I caused you," she said, looking at me. "I know I've said this before, but I'm sorry for what I did to you, Greg," Jillian said softly. "Thank you, Jillian. I accept your apology," I replied, and we both smiled. We spent the next few hours talking. I shared stories about my life with Rebecca and our kids. Jillian talked about her hobbies and her retirement after 25 years in local government administration. "Greg, do you think that..." she began uncertainly as we stood to leave. I smiled and shook my head. "No, I'm sorry, Jillian.

I love my wife too much." "I know you loved Rebecca, but she's gone," she said, searching for the right words. I held up my hand. "Jillian, Becca and I were only separated for a short time. Until we are reunited again, my love for her burns as brightly today as it did the day we met. I cannot and will not cheat on my wife," I told her. My words struck a deep chord in Jillian, and she nodded slowly. "Friends, then?" she asked. "We'll see, Jillian. We'll see," I replied. I held on for another decade until a

stroke took me on a Saturday afternoon. Sarah and Bridget were nearby, and we were having lunch when I sat down to watch TV. I felt no pain, just fatigue, and then I closed my eyes. The next moment, I felt arms around my waist and realized Rebecca was hugging me. "Becca?" I asked. "It's okay, baby. It's your time," she told me. "The kids?" I asked. "They're ready. You haven't noticed how much you've slowed down in the last month, but they have," she said. "This is real, isn't it?" I asked. She laughed, pulled me close, and kissed

me. "If it is, what a way to go—kissing your wife until your last breath. But no, it's real. Look, the girls are coming," Rebecca said. For the next hour, we watched my family gather and cry, but there was laughter too. They shared stories about Rebecca and me, laughing and crying together. Rebecca and I stood with our arms around each other, proud of our strong family. When the paramedics took my body away, Rebecca and I hugged and kissed the kids, knowing it would be a long time before we saw them again. They didn't notice us—just a

slight movement of air. "Come on, baby," Rebecca said, wiping her tears. "I have so much to show you. We have a lot of love to make up for." "Don't I have to go to God or something?" I asked. "Well, yeah, he's waiting for you, but don't worry; he's a good guy," she smiled. I paused to take her in. She looked as she did before we conceived Sarah, and I looked about the same too. "Wait, there's entertainment in heaven?" I asked. Rebecca smiled, her eyes blazing, grabbed my hand, and pulled me along. "Come and find out,

my true love," she said with sensuality in her voice. "Come and find out." [Music] [Applause] [Music] [Applause] [Music]