They say that when a woman forgives infidelity, a part of her dies. I felt that myself, like a light inside me had gone out and didn’t want to come back on.
I have two children — my son Noah, who’s eight, and my daughter Lily, who just turned five.
For most of their lives, I’ve been the one holding everything together. I’ve packed the lunches, washed the clothes, helped with homework, kissed scraped knees, and calmed every nightmare.
Ethan, my husband, always said he worked long hours. He’d come home late with tired eyes and the smell of someone else’s perfume faint on his shirt.
