The truth spilled out in fragments. Mike was an old co-orker she’d reconnected with. One drink turned into dinner. Dinner became a weekend mistake. I listened without speaking, each confession striking like another nail in the coffin of our marriage.
When she finally finished, I asked, “Was it worth it?” She looked up, mascara smeared, and whispered, “No.” I nodded. “Good,” I said. “Because it cost you everything.” I stood and headed toward the hallway.
The bags I’d packed days earlier were already waiting by the door. She stared at them, stunned, like it never occurred to her that I might be the one to leave. “Where are you going?” she asked, her voice cracking. “Somewhere you can’t follow,” I said. “I already signed the papers. They’re on the table.”