As though I could simply set our marriage aside like a coat I’d stopped wearing.
Our daughter, Chloe, couldn’t understand it either.
She called her father in tears.
“Dad, you can’t just say you’ve grown apart! That’s not an explanation!”
Marcus repeated the same words.
He told my sister Diane.
Our neighbors.
Our pastor.
Anyone who asked.
Always the same explanation.
Always delivered in the same careful tone.
Nobody believed him.
Neither did I.
I began searching my memories for something I’d overlooked.
His late evenings at work.
The calls he took privately in the garage.
The way he’d stopped asking about my day.
The distracted expression he wore during dinner.
Had there been signs?
Had I ignored them?
Had he been unhappy for years while I convinced myself everything was fine?
The questions followed me everywhere.
I barely slept.
I lost interest in cooking.
