I knew about the gambling.
You don’t stay married to a man for ten years without noticing when he comes home at 3 AM smelling like whiskey and regret. The poker nights with “the guys.” The cash withdrawals he thinks I don’t track. The way he flinches whenever his phone buzzes.
I knew. I just didn’t know how bad.
Until tonight.
Derek walks through the front door looking like he’s seen his own grave. Pale. Shaking. Won’t meet my eyes.
“Baby.” His voice cracks. “I need to tell you something.”
I’m already bracing. Debt, probably. A second mortgage I’ll have to untangle. Maybe a bookie with a baseball bat waiting in the wings.
What I’m not expecting is what he actually says.
“I lost big tonight. Really big. More than we have. More than we can get.”
“How much?”
He tells me.
The number
