When i went to the hospital for my later-in-life pregnancy, i unexpectedly ran into my ex-husband, who works there as a doctor. He looked surprised and said, “you’re expecting?” before i could answer, a nurse leaned in and said, “doctor… that patient is…” he turned to her, confused. “What do you mean?”

“I regret marrying someone as immature as Paul. Younger women like you are definitely better. It’s embarrassing to be seen with an older woman like you. If only I could turn back time, I’d redo my life.”

These were the hurtful words my ex-husband, Paul, uttered a decade ago. My name is Jennifer, and I am now forty-eight years old. At thirty-three, I tied the knot with Paul, who was five years my junior. We met at the hospital where I worked as a nurse and he had just completed his medical internship. Despite the age gap, his eagerness to seek my advice and his youthful innocence drew me in.