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

enjoying each other’s company. We grabbed coffee after work that somehow, inevitably, turned into wine at a quiet bistro three towns over where no one from our district would recognize us, where we could pretend to be different people leading different lives.

I knew it was wrong. I knew it was a cliché worthy of the terrible romance novels I wouldn’t continue reading …