I wondered what she’d think of the woman I’d become.
I had spent twenty-two years believing I’d built a stable marriage.
Then Marcus left.
And I’d spent three weeks searching myself for whatever might have driven him away.
Now I knew he’d been involved with another woman.
And rather than tell me, he’d chosen an explanation that placed the blame on both of us.
We grew apart.
We became different people.
Words that sounded gentle.
Words that concealed the truth.
I pressed the photograph against my chest.
Then I cried.
Not only because Marcus had betrayed me.
But because I’d spent weeks accepting responsibility for a choice I hadn’t made.
Outside my cabin, the ship moved steadily through the darkness.
The ocean kept rolling beneath us.
And somewhere inside that enormous vessel, Peter was carrying thirty years of regret.
The following morning, I went onto the upper deck.
