Another woman opened my husband’s hotel room door on our twelfth wedding anniversary wearing his white linen shirt, while his wedding ring sat on the nightstand beside two wineglasses. I didn’t know yet that what I saw in Room 817 would force Daniel to answer questions he had spent months avoiding.

When a rude passenger refused to remove his bare foot from my armrest, I gave him an unexpected pedicure while he slept. He was furious afterward, never suspecting that we were about to meet again.

Four hours into an overcrowded flight, I felt something warm graze my elbow. I glanced down and found five bare toes stretched across my armrest.