When my dad sat us down and said he was leaving my mom, I thought I misheard him. My parents had been married for 26 years. They weren’t perfect, but they weren’t divorce bad. At least, I didn’t think so.“I’ve met someone,” he said, rubbing his hands together like he was trying to warm them up. “I didn’t plan for this to happen, but… I can’t ignore it. This person is my soulmate.”I glanced at my mom, waiting for her to explode. But she just sat there, quiet. Her hands folded in her lap, eyes fixed on the table.“Who is it?” I asked, my voice shaking,

He hesitated. “I—I don’t think that matters.”“Of course it matters!” I snapped. “You’re blowing up our entire family for someone, but we don’t get to know who?”He didn’t answer.Over the next few weeks, he moved out, got an apartment across town, and refused to say a word about the mystery person. No pictures. No introductions. Nothing. My mom never asked, or if she did, she never told me.At first, I assumed it was an affair. Some woman he met at work, or maybe someone from his past. But the longer time passed, the stranger it all felt. He didn’t remarry. He didn’t bring anyone to family events. It was like he had vanished into his own world.