front door clicked open. My husband didn’t even look guilty ….

I called my sister, Jenna, with my voice steady enough to surprise both of us. “I need you here tomorrow,” I said. “Bring boxes.”

“What happened?” she demanded.

“He brought his mistress home,” I said, and the words tasted metallic. “He wants a divorce. I signed.”

Silence, then: “Claire… why?”

“Because I’m not giving him what he expects,” I answered. “He expects me to beg. I’m not doing that.”