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

pulled out a pack of cigarettes—a habit he’d quit for me fifteen years earlier—lit one with shaking hands, and looked at me through the smoke.

“How long?” His voice was eerily calm, controlled. That scared me more than yelling would have.

“I’m sorry,” I collapsed in front of him, sobbing, my knees hitting the carpet hard. “I was wrong. I was so incredibly continue reading …