For almost two years, my husband had barely touched me.
And now I was sitting in a car watching him hold another woman outside a hotel.
I reached for my
phone.
My hands were shaking so badly that the first picture came out blurry.
I took another.
Then another.
The woman opened her purse and handed Robert something.
A small black box.
He opened it.
She smiled excitedly.
I couldn’t see what was inside.
But I didn’t need to.
At least, I thought I didn’t.
I started the car.
I had already decided I was going home.
Marriage counseling services
I would pack a bag.
I wouldn’t scream.
I wouldn’t beg.
And I certainly wouldn’t wait for a man who had spent two years making me feel undesirable while apparently having no trouble finding desire somewhere else.
Then, just before I pulled away, I saw Robert and the woman walk toward the hotel entrance.
And for some reason, I followed.
I parked farther down the street and entered through another door.
I knew it was ridiculous.
Humiliating, even.
But after thirty-one years of marriage, I needed to know exactly what I was walking away from.
Smartphone accessories
Robert and the woman disappeared down a hallway.
I stayed far enough behind that they wouldn’t notice me.
Then I heard her voice.
“Everything is ready upstairs.”
My stomach turned.
Robert answered quietly.
“She still suspects nothing?”
The woman laughed.
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“Nothing. You almost ruined it last night when you stayed so late.”
