She greeted me with a soft smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes, but was gentle all the same. That evening, she cooked my favorite meal — roasted chicken with herbs and mashed potatoes, just like she used to when we were newly married.
Over the next few weeks, she began leaving small notes on my desk:
“Drive safely today.”
“Dinner’s at seven.”
“I love you.”
The Appointments
Every week, she went out for “appointments with her gynecologist.” She said it casually, without explanation, and I didn’t dare ask questions. How could I? I had lost the right to doubt her.
But as the visits continued, I began to wonder. Was she sick? Was something wrong? My mind played cruel tricks on me — was she hiding pain from me the way I had hidden my betrayal from her?
The guilt twisted deeper. Every time she walked out the door, I felt like I was losing her piece by piece.
