I never imagined grief would hit me at 34, but here I was, a widower with a 5-year-old son. Two months ago, I kissed my wife Stacey goodbye, and hours later, I received a call that shattered my world: Stacey had died in a car accident. The funeral came and went, and I never got to say goodbye.

I spent the following months lost in work and sorrow, until one day, I took Luke on a beach vacation, hoping to heal. As we were walking, Luke shouted, “Dad, look, Mom’s back!” I froze. There she was—Stacey, alive, standing on the beach.

I was shaken, demanding answers from her, but the truth was more horrifying than I could have imagined. Stacey had faked her death, abandoning me and Luke after an affair. She left us to grieve while she ran off with her lover, and now, my son had to face the truth.

I couldn’t explain this to Luke. How do you tell a child his mother chose to leave him behind? Stacey’s betrayal destroyed any love I had left for her. I fought for full custody, and my world slowly began to rebuild.

Two months later, as I held Luke tight, I realized we would be okay. We had each other, and that was enough.