The tent was busy. Many people came to mourn—friends, family, church members, and even some I hadn’t seen in a long time. They sat in the sun, looking sad, wiping their tears, and talking about how “young” and “hard-working” my husband was.
But as I stood in the shadows, behind the fence, watching them cry for a man I once loved dearly, all I felt was anger. Not because he had died, but because of how he had lived his life.
This was not the man they thought he was. To most, he was a good man, responsible and successful as a contractor. But to me, he was a liar. He lived a double life so well that even I, his legal wife, was shocked when the truth began to come out.
I never planned to disrupt his funeral. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure I would come. But when I heard that his “other wife” told people I was just some crazy woman from his past, trying to get money, I knew I had to speak up.
And I didn’t come alone. I carried my nine-month-old daughter on my back, wore a black dress, and walked into that area when the preacher asked if anyone wanted to say something about him.
As I walked up, whispers spread through the crowd… Continue reading