***
Max and I had been married almost thirteen years.
I was staring at it like I wanted to throw it through a window.
We had two daughters, ten and three, and apparently thirteen years was long enough for my husband to decide my body had violated some agreement I hadn’t known we’d made.
“You don’t look the way you used to,” he’d told me.
That was before I discovered Claire.
My body had violated some agreement I hadn’t known we’d made.
His personal trainer.
When I confronted him about the affair, Max didn’t apologize.
He shrugged.
“Well, what did you expect? Men are visual. And Claire, she’s perfect.”
I remember standing in our bedroom while he packed.
“Well, what did you expect? Men are visual. And Claire, she’s perfect.”