After An Affair, We Lived As Strangers For Eighteen Years—Until One Doctor’s Visit

thought the punishment for my affair was the loss of intimacy, the eighteen years of Michael’s body in my house but never in my bed. I thought the punishment was the silence that filled every room, the cold coffee left on counters, the separate lives lived under one roof. I thought I understood suffering. But I was wrong.

The real punishment is knowing continue reading …