One night, she stumbled through the door reeking of alcohol again.
"Elaine, no smoking, no drinking while we're trying to conceive. Wasn't that your rule?"
I swallowed my frustration and tried to talk it out with her.
"It was Mr. Gray's table. How was I supposed to say no?"
"Charles, stop making problems where there aren't any. I never said I wasn't going to have the baby."
Her cold indifference cut right through me.
Sure enough, a few days later, she miscarried.
In that sterile hospital corridor, she leaned against Henry Gray's shoulder and sobbed. I stood a few feet away in the hallway, rooted to the floor like there were needles under my shoes.
Starting from the year before, Elaine had been going out with Mr. Gray every single day.
They never bothered keeping their distance in front of anyone. Every detail from their dinner meetings made its way through the office like clockwork.
"Charles, your wife..."
Even my own supervisor had hinted at it more than a few times. But I always chose to believe Elaine.
Ten years together. I refused to believe she would do something like that to me.
So I kept making excuses for her. Covering for her.