My husband sent another woman a huge bouquet of white roses and pink peonies with a card signed “Love, Daniel,” and by one careless mistake, those flowers arrived at our house instead.

with another woman, then there is nothing here to save.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Then decide because it’s the right thing to do.”

“I already have.” He offered, “I’ll call her.” I stopped him: “I don’t want to hear it.”

“I thought maybe you’d want to know.”

“I don’t.”

The change in me surprised me. Only hours earlier I’d wanted to hear everything; now listening to him break off his relationship with Laura seemed unbearably intimate, as if he expected me to supervise a goodbye that belonged to the