She opened the door with a smile.

She had an apron on, and the smell of something warm and wonderful cooking drifted out from behind her.

“Sweetheart, you look pale. Come in, I’ll make us tea.”

I didn’t make it past the entryway.

Her face changed instantly.

“Cheating?” she repeated, like the word didn’t belong in her mouth.

“With more than one woman,” I said.

She sat down hard at the kitchen table.

Just dropped into the chair like her legs had given out.
Then she cried.