tion in his voice. “Eight long months.”
A **tter, hollow laugh escaped Clara’s throat, sharp and *roken. Eight months. Eight months of her cooking his f**orite meals, of waiting up for him when he was “l(fā)ate at the office,” of comforting him when he claimed work was stressing him out, of planning their tenth wedding anniversary trip to Tuscany that was only a month away. Eight months of her loving him with every fi*er of her *eing, while he was sneaking around *ehind her *ack, tearing their life apart one secret at a time.
“Why?” The word was *arely audi*le, torn from her chest against her will. “Why did you do this? We were happy, Ethan. We were *good*. We had everything. Money, a *eautiful home, respect… we had each other. What was so missing that you had to go looking for it somewhere el