And then, while sorting through her belongings for estate planning and inheritance paperwork, I found something that didn’t belong in the life I thought we’d lived. A divorce decree with my name on it, signed and dated more than twenty years earlier.

For a moment, I truly believed it had to be a mistake.

Claire and I had built a home. We had raised two children. We had celebrated anniversaries. We had sat on the couch late at night, sharing tea and trading jokes that only made sense to us. We were the couple friends described as “solid.” Not perfect, but steady.

Ezoic

Yet there it was in black and white, a legal document that said our marriage ended long ago.

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