Starting Over at 40

When I first found out, I thought I'd just tolerate it and move on.

That woman looked about the same age as my 18-year-old daughter.

My husband, Mason Fleming, was already 42.

Our child was in college. It would be embarrassing if this got out.

Summer Chamberlain came to me crying, begging me to let them be together. Her clear eyes blinked at me, looking just like me when I had loved without hesitation.

But now, the wrinkles at the corners of my eyes and the occasional gray hair reminded me of the fact that I was no longer a young woman.

"Sure, I'll let the two of you be together."

I was just joking, but she took it seriously and excitedly asked, "Elaine, will you actually divorce Mason?"

"I can. But what happens after that?" I asked in return.

She seriously thought about it before gushing, "I plan to have him marry me and bear him a son—he keeps talking about wanting one. But before that, I want him to take me to Northa, to surf in Shaway, and buy me a villa filled with gifts I like."

I frowned slightly when she mentioned that Mason wanted a son.

Back then, it was because he felt bad that I lost too much blood giving birth to our daughter that he chose to use protection.

So it was true that feelings had changed.

I didn't want to hear any more of her naïve talk.

Straightening my back, I told her, "Summer, right? I was just joking. We've been married for 21 years. Divorce isn't something that would affect just me and him anymore. Instead of dreaming about forever with him, you should think about how to get as much money out of him as you can."

When I got home, Mason was in the study on his computer.

He was still as handsome as ever. In fact, he was even more attractive now that he had matured.

He didn't even acknowledge me when he heard me come in.

That was how things were between us after 21 years of marriage.

If I didn't start the conversation, he wouldn't say a word.

While I went into the kitchen and neatly prepared afternoon tea, Mason sat down at the dining table, eyes on his phone the entire time.

"Christmas is coming up. Yvie wants you to pick her up," I told him.

"Okay."

"The garden fountain is clogged. It needs to be redone."

"Alright. Handle it as you see fit," he replied.

"Summer came to see me."

Hearing that, he finally looked up and glanced at me. "So what?" he asked coldly.

Mason had cheated on me, and his mistress had come to mark her territory.

And yet, that was all he could say to me.

It did not matter how mild-tempered I usually was. His shameless attitude made me furious.

I questioned him, "Mason, I'm your wife. The mistress already came knocking on our door."

He slammed the coffee down on the table. "Elaine Smith, think carefully before you speak. Summer's just a kid. What could possibly be going on between us? Stop with that nonsense."

So he was aware that she was barely an adult. Despite that, he still shamelessly had an affair with her.

The atmosphere at home turned tense, and things turned sour between us.

I thought he'd at least leave the house for a few days. But the next day, after I came back from the supermarket, I was greeted by the sight of Summer sitting on the living room couch.

Dressed in the pajamas I'd bought for my daughter, she was waiting for Mason to peel her an orange.

"Mason, you're amazing!" she cheered. "The orange peel looks like a starfish."

"Hah, that's a creative way to put it. Eat slowly. I see a lot of seeds."

Watching the look of affection in his eyes made my heart ache. Back then, I had asked him to peel me an orange, as I liked oranges.

He refused, saying he hated the smell of oranges.

Now, he was willingly peeling them for another woman.

Summer crossed her legs, waiting for Mason to feed her.

I saw Mason's Adam's apple move as he pulled her onto his lap.

Just as his hand was about to reach inside Summer's pajamas, I opened the door.

Even after she saw me come in, Summer remained nestled in Mason's arms.

"Oh, Elaine, you're back! I think something got in my eye. Mason's helping me take a look. You're not misunderstanding anything, are you?" she asked.

With a twist of her waist, Mason let out a sharp breath.

He hasn't touched me in a long time. In fact, we haven't even kissed in ten years.

Looking at the redness around his lips, I understood everything.

I had always focused on the family and rarely socialized. Now, I didn't even know how to respond.

Should I start shouting? Rush over and yank her hair?

None of that seemed right. I might as well get a divorce.

Since we had joint property, even just half would amount to billions.

I set down my things, stood up, and looked at Mason.

"Let's get a divorce."