His wife didn't miss a beat. "Out you go. You're not welcome here."

"Mom, that down jacket you're wearing—I bought it for you. Seven or eight hundred dollars."

Her gaze dropped for just a second before she shot back, "That was my son's money."

Ruth's voice came from behind her, soft and deliberate. "Don't worry. I'll buy you things too. Better things. More expensive."

The old woman's face split into a triumphant smile.

"You heard her. Now get out. I have a daughter-in-law—a real one—and she's about to give me a grandson."

When I didn't move, she shoved me. Hard.

Farm people have strong hands. And hers held nothing back.

I couldn't brace against the force. My feet skidded toward the doorway, one stumbling step after another.

Five years of marriage. And this was how it ended—on the eve of the new year.

My eyes found Ray over his mother's shoulder.

"Ray. Tell me. When did you fall for her?"

Ruth answered instead, her voice dripping with gentle poison. "I'll admit, I gave him a hard time back then. But do you know why?"

I held my breath.

"Because he wrote me ninety-nine love letters. Kept sending them, one after another. I just wasn't ready for a relationship yet."

The past I thought I knew crumbled to ash.

My body began to shake. For ten, maybe fifteen seconds, my mind went completely blank.

So that was it. He'd been writing love letters to Ruth.

While I comforted him through his "heartbreak."

What a fool I'd been.

While I stood there reeling, the old woman shoved me again—harder this time.

I stumbled backward onto the front steps and slid several feet across the icy ground.

Snow drifted down in silence, broken only by the sound of the deadbolt clicking into place.

I picked myself up, brushing snow from my clothes, my dignity in tatters.

At least I still had my car.

I turned on the heater, but the windshield was a blur of white, and the tires spun uselessly on the ice.

No driving tonight. I'd have to make do here.

The gifts I'd brought—all food and drinks—sat untouched in the backseat. At least I wouldn't go hungry.

My heart burned with injustice. But I'd be damned if I didn't take care of myself.

Once I'd eaten my fill, I pulled out my phone.

Almost without thinking, I messaged an old friend I hadn't spoken to in ages.

"You went to school with Ruth Newton, right? Do you remember her?"

The reply came fast: "Ruth Newton is still ALIVE? She didn't die?"