I Just Divorced and Left the Country. My Ex Married His Mistress Right Away.

On weekends, I no longer had to cook and clean for someone who didn’t deserve it. I dedicated my time to myself. I rode my bike along the riverbank, visited antique markets, or simply sat in the garden to read.

I started to care for my grandmother’s garden. I learned to prune the rose bushes and plant herbs. My hands got dirty, but my heart was at peace.

This life was the polar opposite of my eight years of suffocating marriage. I felt reborn. I laughed more, slept better.

The Wedding Day

On a Friday afternoon, a week before Ethan’s wedding, Jessica called me on FaceTime.

“My God, Sarah, look at you. Are you glowing, or is it just me? Your skin is flushed. Your face is so fresh. Does the weather there suit you?”

“I guess so,” I laughed. “Work is going well. The air is clean. How are you?”

We talked for a while. Just before hanging up, Jessica hesitated.

“Hey, Sarah. Next week… next week is that bastard’s wedding. Are you going to be okay?”

I knew Jessica was worried about my feelings. I looked out the window. The evening sun painted the garden in shades of gold.

“I’m fine,” I said in a serene voice. “Next week, I have to visit an antique ceramic workshop. I’m too busy thinking about what kind of tiles to choose for the hotel bathrooms. Wish them happiness. I’m busy planting flowers and working.”

Jessica looked at me for a long time through the screen and then sighed in relief.

“Yeah, you’re right. Being busy is the best thing. To hell with them.”

I hung up and continued sketching my ideas. The day of their wedding, I truly didn’t care.

That day finally arrived. In Oregon, it was Saturday afternoon. I had just finished watering the hydrangeas when my phone rang. It was a FaceTime call from Jessica.

I smiled, dried my hands on my apron, and accepted the call.

Jessica’s excited face appeared on the screen. She was at home in her pajamas, but the background noise was a chaos of music and voices.

“Sarah, what are you doing?” Jessica shouted into the phone.

“I just finished in the garden. Why is it so loud? Are you at a party?”

“No way. My husband is.” Jessica rolled her eyes and lowered her voice. “He’s at that bastard Ethan’s wedding with that tramp. And I forced him to livestream the whole thing for me so you can get the scoop and have your revenge.”

With that, Jessica pointed her phone’s camera at her husband’s phone screen.

I didn’t need to see. Jessica’s shrill voice was enough.

“Oh my God, Sarah. What a waste of money. My husband says they’ve booked the largest ballroom at the Crescent Manor. Red carpet from the entrance, imported flowers everywhere. They even hired a symphony orchestra. It’s insane.”

I frowned.

“And Ashley?”

“My husband sent me a picture.” Jessica turned the screen to show me a blurry image. “That Ashley’s dress—they say it’s a designer gown with Swarovski crystals valued at tens of thousands of dollars. And she’s even wearing a tiara like some fairy tale princess. And to top it off, she won’t stop stroking her belly while greeting the guests. You know, to make sure everyone knows. What a shameless woman.”

I shrugged.

“And Ethan?”

“He’s bursting with pride,” Jessica continued indignantly. “With his white suit, hair full of gel. He’s walking arm-in-arm with her like they’re the king and queen of the world. My husband says he has such an arrogant look on his face, as if he’s conquered the universe. He probably thinks he’s the smartest man alive for marrying a young woman who’s going to give him an heir. What a bunch of idiots showing off for the cameras.”

I listened to Jessica’s complaints and just wanted to laugh. I looked at my garden where the red roses were in full bloom. I took a deep breath. The air here was so pure.

“Hey, Jessica, tell me what you’re making for dinner tonight.”

Jessica went quiet.

“I’m giving you the gossip of the year and you’re asking me about dinner?”

“It’s just that their story isn’t interesting anymore,” I smiled faintly. “Let them show off. Let them think they’re the best. That’s their problem. I have to put a chicken in the oven now. Michael and the team from the studio are coming over for dinner.”

Jessica stared at me through the screen and then suddenly burst out laughing.

“Oh, Sarah. Sarah, you’ve reached enlightenment. You’re right. Why worry about those people? Go roast your chicken and I hope it’s delicious. If there are any updates, I’ll call you with the next chapter.”

We hung up. I took off my apron, washed my hands, and started preparing dinner. Their laughter, their luxury, all of that was a world away. And I realized for the first time in eight years that I didn’t feel a shred of jealousy or pain. They just seemed like strangers, and my life was now truly my own.

I thought the story of the wedding would end with Jessica’s call. I had a wonderful evening with Michael and my colleagues. We drank wine, ate roast chicken with herbs, and had a lively discussion about the hotel project. The work was progressing very well, and Michael kept praising my ideas.

Uncle Lou’s Revelation

But the next morning, just after I woke up, as I was making coffee and stepping out onto the balcony to breathe the fresh air, the phone rang again.

It was Jessica. At that hour, it was already mid-afternoon in New York. I was a little surprised.

“What’s up? Another livestream?” I joked as I sipped my coffee.

But Jessica’s voice on the other end wasn’t like yesterday’s. It wasn’t indignant, but filled with a boundless euphoria, as if she’d won the lottery.

“Sarah, Sarah, are you sitting or standing?” Her voice was a shriek.