After my divorce, my son let me sleep on his couch — while gifting a luxury apartment to his mother-in-law. “If you wanted comfort, you should’ve stayed married to Dad,” he told me. The next day, with only what fit in my pockets, I quietly disappeared. When he found me again, he couldn’t believe what he saw… At 62, I never imagined I’d end up on a foldout couch in my son’s living room, my life reduced to two suitcases. Marvin called it a “temporary solution,” as if a thirty-year marriage ending