going out with Mark, you were already planning to see her.”
He nodded.
“Yes.”
“And when I asked you where you had been on previous Sundays, you lied.”
“Yes.”
“And when you told me I was imagining things, you knew I wasn’t.”
He looked down.
“Yes.”
I turned toward the window.
For months, I had wondered whether there was another woman.
Now I had an answer.
I had imagined that the truth, once revealed, would bring some kind of clarity.
Instead, it brought a different kind of pain.
The uncertainty
