The room went silent. None of us could process what we’d just heard.
“You’re not the woman I married,” he continued casually. “The gray hair, the wrinkles… the extra weight.”
I leaned forward. “What the heck, Dad?”
He didn’t even glance at me. “I’ve taken care of myself. I still look good, and I still have time. I deserve someone who matches that.”
Lucy burst into tears.
“I didn’t sign up to grow old with someone who let herself go,” he added, setting the folder in front of Mom. “Happy birthday.”
Owen pulled the ribbon loose. Divorce papers slid out.
Mom didn’t scream or throw them in his face. She just sat there, her expression frighteningly blank.
That night, he packed a suitcase. We stood around in disbelief—Ben pacing, Nora simmering in quiet fury, Lucy clinging to Mom, Owen looking lost. At the door, Mom asked, “You’re leaving now?”
“I’ll come back for the rest later,” he said, stepping around her.
Within weeks, Dad was posting photos online with a woman named Tessa, who looked barely older than me. Rooftop bars, wineries, beach resorts. He bought new clothes, whitened his teeth, got an expensive haircut.
