Chapter One -- The Unraveling
"You're a fucking bastard! I moved across the country for you!" the sobbing woman screams.
"I didn't tell you to!" I snap back. "In fact, I told you not to if you thought we'd end up together."
"You have twenty minutes to get home and tell the bitch yourself, or I will!"
She's shaking with rage and betrayal. I walk out without another word, not even looking back.
Driving home, numb and wired, I stare at the road while my life crashes down around me. But somewhere deep in the chaos, a small grin creeps over my face.
Whatever happens now... I'm rid of her.
For over two years, I'd carried on an affair with a woman who never understood what it meant to be the side piece. Despite my repeated refusal, she clung to this fantasy that I'd leave my wife--my wife of over twenty years.
It started online. Chatting. Cybersex. The occasional photo. Then we hooked up on a business trip, and things escalated from there. I knew I was in too deep when she moved to my city, thinking it would force my hand.
My marriage, like many, had its highs and lows. During conference trips, I sometimes found relief in the arms of someone else. I wasn't proud of it, but I loved my wife. I always came home to her. Despite the lack of intimacy, I believed we had a happy marriage--or something close to it.
But now, that illusion was over.
I pulled into the driveway already knowing what I had to do. Walk in, confess everything, and beg for forgiveness. No more secrets.
She sits across from me, silent and still. I begin to tell her. The words are clumsy, heavy with guilt. Her face barely moves. Then, her phone rings. I glance at the clock.
Right on time, I think.
She answers.
"Yes, he's telling me about you right now," she snaps into the phone. "What makes you think I need to hear it from you, you husband-stealing skank?"
She hangs up.
Then she turns to me, calm but cold.
"I had my suspicions. I'm not surprised. But I'm disgusted. You disgust me. I need time to think. Elizabeth is out of town--you'll sleep in her room. If and when I want to talk to you, I'll come to you."
I nod. No argument. No defense.
I sleep restlessly in my daughter's bed, wake up early as usual, and creep into our room to shower. But the bed is empty. A note lies on her pillow:
I needed to get out of the house and clear my head. A friend picked me up. I'll be back when I get back... if I decide to come back. But rest assured, the kids are mine. And you'll regret being a manwhore. Bye.
I stare at the note, shake my head, and accept the truth--I did this.
I go through the motions. Shower. Take my son to school. Go to work. I try calling her. Straight to voicemail.
Finally, she texts me.
I'm fine. Stop calling me. It's too late to care now. I'm doing things I should've done for myself a long time ago. I'll come home when I'm ready.
That was Tuesday.
On Friday morning, a new message arrives.
I've come to terms with your infidelity and I'm taking the appropriate action. I'll be home late Sunday night. We will talk then.
I spend the weekend anxious and on edge, focused on the kids, bracing for what's coming. Mentally preparing myself for her to leave and take them with her.
Sunday comes and goes. No sign of her.
Monday morning, she finally replies:
I'll be there this afternoon. The kids are staying elsewhere tonight while we figure things out.
I leave work early and buy lilies--her favorite. I know flowers don't undo betrayal, but I have to start somewhere.
