The fifth time my husband stayed out all night, I didn’t call him—I opened his company’s Slack and told more than five hundred employees

as he laughed at her private remark. Somewhere along the way she’d become his constant companion, while I’d become the woman he occasionally identified as his wife.

I brought down two suitcases and filled them methodically: jackets, shirts, pants, shoes, toiletries he’d begun keeping in the guest bathroom, his backup executive badge, and the navy overcoat he loved. I left his expensive watches untouched. After years of arranging their servicing, I wasn’t going to let anyone accuse me of damaging or taking them. At 6:28, I closed the second