I had admired her for being sensible.
Daniel continued.
“I worked overtime. I took extra shifts. I thought we were building something together.”
He turned toward me.
“Did she ever look at you and feel guilty?”
The question hurt more than I expected.
“I don’t know, sweetheart.”
He nodded slowly.
“I hope she did. Not because I want her to suffer. I just hope she understood what she was doing.”
I reached for his hand.
For the rest of the night, we went through what we could safely access, saved the relevant records, and made a list of questions we needed to discuss with our lawyers.
Neither of us emptied a joint account or touched money that might belong to the other person. We knew that anger could make people careless, and we weren’t going to let our pain create another problem.
At midnight, Daniel finally left.
He hugged me at the door.
“Call me if Dad comes home.”
“I will.”
He hesitated.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Please don’t let him convince you this is your fault.”
I looked at him.
“I won’t.”
But when the door closed, I stood alone in the hallway and wondered how many times I had defended Mark when I should have listened to myself.
Mark came home after one in the morning.
I was already in bed, pretending to sleep.
He showered before getting under the covers.
That detail stayed with me.
He had been careful enough to wash another woman’s scent from his body before lying beside his wife.
Then he leaned over and kissed my shoulder.
“Love you, Carol.”
I kept my eyes closed.
For years, those words had made me feel safe.
That night, they sounded like a sentence he had learned to repeat without thinking.
The following morning, I called a divorce attorney.
I told her what I had discovered and asked what I should do.
