Those four characters that once meant everything—Rosemary & Roland—had been swapped out for Sweethearts: Rosemary & Frederick.
"Yes, she cheated again. So no, I won't be taking her back."
I set down my phone and signed my name on the divorce papers without a second thought.
On the seventh day after my mother's death—the day of her memorial—my father called and asked me to come home for breakfast.
I thought maybe he still had some shred of feeling for her.
Maybe he wanted to burn offerings together.
I walked in and found Frederick and his mother, Astrid Fleming, already seated at the table.
My expression went cold. I turned to leave.
"Stay right there!"
My father's voice cracked like a whip. Before I could take another step, he launched into me.
"I heard you tried to hit Frederick at the club the other day! What the hell is wrong with you? Is that any way to treat your brother?!"
"Thank God Rosemary stepped in, or who knows what you would've done. You hurt her, and now you want a divorce? Running away from home like some child?!"
"I don't know what your mother taught you, but she raised a thug. You'd better get on your knees and apologize before you destroy the partnership between our families!"
I looked at this man—this man who saw nothing but profit margins and alliances.
A cold laugh escaped me.
"If you knew I'd left home, why didn't you ask where I've been staying? Whether I was okay?"
"Oh, right—I forgot. Your heart belongs to your mistress now. That's why you couldn't even bother showing up to your own wife's funeral. You're that shameless, and you dare lecture me about my mother?!"
My father slammed his chopsticks down and raised his hand to strike me.
Astrid's eyes darted, calculating. She grabbed his arm just in time, her face arranged into a picture of gentle concern.
"Honey, what are you doing? The boy's grieving. We should be understanding—he's in pain. I don't mind, really."
"Besides, if you bruise his face, how will he stand beside Frederick as best man?"
I froze.
My voice came out raw, scraped hollow.
"What did you just call him? You two are married?!"
"My mother's been dead seven days, and you couldn't wait to bring your mistress through the front door?!"
My father's expression hardened, utterly unrepentant.
"Your mother's gone—what, am I supposed to mourn her forever?!"