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I don’t remember my breaking point, the exact moment when I decided to abandon my role as faithful wife and surrender to the intoxication of an affair. I play things over in my head. If just one thing had happened differently, maybe I’d still be who I used to be. I’d be content in my marriage. I wouldn’t know any better.
If my sister hadn’t called that morning to tell me my mother had a stroke. If I’d crashed my car in a mad panic as I swerved in and out of traffic at top speeds to reach her. If my husband had called to comfort me instead of texting me a cold you should have taken the kids with you message three hours into my drive.
But none of those things happened. My husband failed to make that call.
Adrian didn’t.
Maybe that was the moment.
His voice. My vulnerability.
His question, “What can I do to help you?”