With tears in his eyes, he gathered up every cheap little trinket Joan had ever given him, shoved them all into a box, and threw it away.
But our finances were tangled too deep.
Even if I divorced him, I'd walk away with nothing.
And why should I be the one who left empty-handed?
So after all the back and forth, we got back together.
On the surface, we looked like the same couple we'd always been.
But only the two of us knew the truth. Once a crack exists, it can never be repaired.
The marriage had been hollow for a long time.
I thought we could at least keep up appearances a while longer.
Then last month happened.
He and Joan, drunk again, rekindled everything in a hotel room.
"Eleanor, take a good look. What exactly do you think you have that can compete with me?"
Three in the morning.
Joan had video-called me specifically to gloat.
"Your husband swore up and down he was coming back to his family. Said you were the only one in his heart. And so what?"
"All I had to do was crook my finger, and he came running right back to my bed."
When I found out he'd cheated again, I didn't cry or scream the way I used to. There was no hysteria.
I simply picked up the phone, calm as anything.