2023 was a tough year for beloved actor Kevin Costner. After 18 years, he and his wife Christine Baumgartner divorced.
It has been reported that it was Baumgartner who filed for a divorce, which left the Yellowstone star rather shocked by his now ex-wife’s sudden decision.
People close to the couple, however, claim that Baumgartner hated the fact that Costner was working long hours and was away from home for longer periods of time. “During filming, Kevin is not around very much. His absence has been very hard for her,” a source reportedly said.
“Christine doesn’t want him to throw himself into another project. He has been obsessed with filming Horizon since last year. She wasn’t happy about it,” a source reported.
“At times, his career has taken precedence over his home life,” another source added.
“All of this success and excitement over the new project probably took his attention away from his family more than he realized. Since it didn’t look like that would change and likely could get worse, it caused tension at home,” the source added.
After the initial shock and the ugly child support battle, Costner was seen with another woman, singer Jewel.
The two were recently seen together at a tennis event on Richard Branson’s Necker Island for the Inspiring Children Foundation.
As per TMZ, the two took a plane to the Caribbean and spent nearly a week together.
An insider told the magazine, “There was definitely something going on,” confirming that the pair indeed vacationed in the Caribbean together.
Well, no matter how hard he tries to stay away from the spotlight, that’s not an easy thing to do, especially if you are as famous as Costner is.
During the weekend, after presenting an award at the Golden Globes, Costner became a discussion topic. He, alongside America Ferrera, presented the award for Best Female Actor in a Television Series: Musical or Comedy (The Bear’s Ayo Edebiri won).
At one moment, Costner quoted Ferrera’s monologue from the hit movie Barbie, and that triggered loud applause.
“You know, you have a scene that I really love,” Costner stated on stage. “I think a lot of people enjoy that scene. ‘It’s simply difficult to be a woman.’ You’re aware that ‘You’re so attractive.’ You’re so brilliant, and it hurts me that you don’t believe you’re good enough. “That was pretty good.”
Ferrera’s reply was: “Did you, Kevin Costner, memorize my monologue about womanhood from Barbie?”
He confessed that he didn’t really memorize the entire thing but went on to say, “But it’s an important message, and it always serves to remind me what’s possible in cinema. It simply reminds me that when we take our time, get it right, and cinema is at its best, it can be about moments you’ll never forget.”
The duo’s back-and-forth was praised and appreciated by the audience.
“I was laughing so hard with Kevin Costner trying to be serious…and aging well!” “Yay America!” one individual wrote.
“He worked as much on that segment as he did on his english accent in Robin Hood,” another person said.
“Lmao he’s trying so hard to stay serious ,” a third said.
You can take a look at Costner and Ferrera’s award presentation below.
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I Found Tiny Childrens Shoes on My Late Husbands Grave Every Time I Visited, Their Secret Changed My Life
When Ellen visits Paul’s grave, seeking solace, she’s puzzled by the sight of children’s shoes resting on his headstone. At first, she dismisses it, assuming it’s a mistake by another grieving family. But as more shoes appear over time, the mystery deepens. Determined to understand, Ellen eventually catches the person responsible—and her life changes in an instant.
The first time I saw the shoes, I thought someone had made a mistake. A small pair of blue sneakers lay beside Paul’s headstone, neatly arranged as if left with intention. I figured a grieving parent had misplaced them. People do strange things when they mourn—I know I did. After Paul passed away in a sudden accident, I spent an entire week making jam that I knew I’d never eat. It was the only thing that made me feel like I was doing something, anything.
But those shoes were different. They didn’t belong, and I moved them aside before placing my flowers by Paul’s grave. It wasn’t until my next visit that I noticed something unusual: there were more shoes. This time, tiny red rain boots. Then, during another visit, I found dark green sneakers. It was too deliberate to be random. And it didn’t make sense. Paul and I never had children. I tried to convince myself it was a mistake—a grieving parent finding comfort in placing shoes at the wrong grave—but deep down, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.
As the shoes multiplied with each visit, it felt like an invisible hand was pulling at the fragile threads of peace I had stitched together. Frustrated, I stopped visiting for a while, hoping that by staying away, the shoes would disappear. They didn’t. Instead, they kept coming. When I finally returned, six pairs of children’s shoes stood in a neat row beside Paul’s headstone, like a haunting tribute I couldn’t comprehend.
My sadness turned into anger. Who was doing this? Was this some cruel joke?
Then, one cold morning, I finally saw her. She was crouched beside the grave, gently placing a pair of small brown sandals next to the growing collection. Her long, dark hair swayed in the breeze as she carefully arranged them, her movements slow and purposeful.
“Hey! You!” I yelled, charging toward her, the flowers I had brought slipping from my grasp, forgotten.
She flinched but didn’t run. Instead, she stood slowly, dusting off her coat before turning to face me. That’s when my breath caught in my throat.
It was Maya—Paul’s old secretary. I hadn’t seen her in years, not since she abruptly left her job. She had always been warm and cheerful, but the woman standing before me now seemed burdened with a sorrow I recognized all too well.
“Maya?” I whispered, the disbelief heavy in my voice.
She nodded, her eyes red with unshed tears. Without a word, she reached into her coat pocket and handed me a worn photograph. My hands shook as I took it, my heart pounding in my chest.
It was a picture of Paul, smiling down at a baby boy cradled in his arms.
“His name is Oliver,” Maya said softly. “He’s Paul’s son.”
I stumbled backward, the world spinning as the weight of her words sank in. My husband, the man I thought I knew so well, had lived a secret life—with a child.
“You and Paul were…” I couldn’t finish the sentence.
Maya nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I never wanted to hurt you. But after Paul’s accident, Oliver started asking about his dad. I told him Paul was watching over him, and every time Oliver gets a new pair of shoes, he asks me to bring the old ones to his daddy.”
The shoes… they were a child’s way of staying connected to the father he had lost.
I wanted to scream, to demand answers from a man who could no longer give them. But standing there, staring at the shoes left behind by a little boy who would never know his father, I felt my anger start to melt into something else—something softer.
Maya looked at me with guilt etched on her face. “I’ll stop bringing the shoes. I never meant to upset you.”
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