Marie’s POV
My husband finally left for one of his “business trips.” I knew what that meant. He wasn’t in some hotel room buried under paperwork—he was probably buried inside another woman. In the past, that would have gutted me. I would have sat in bed alone, staring at the ceiling, asking myself what I’d done wrong, what made me not enough. But now? Now I felt nothing. Or maybe it wasn’t nothing—maybe it was freedom.
After dinner, I padded into the bathroom, closing the door behind me. I undressed slowly, almost carefully, folding my clothes on the little stool by the wall. The mirror was foggy from the heat of the water I’d already turned on, and I caught my reflection before I stepped into the shower. My hair hung loose, my skin pale under the bathroom light. I didn’t look like a wif
