I chew on the end of my pen cap. I know we had our issues, every marriage does—but to lie to me for the past sixteen months. Yes, I was inattentive, and yes, I wasn’t exactly the loving wife, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t love him and that doesn’t mean I never stopped loving him. Even now, at this moment I love him. I hate him, but I love him. Everything I was doing, I was doing for us. I was doing it for our future. Every night I spent at the office was for us so we could have the life we’ve always dreamed of. If his writing career wouldn’t have tapered off right when it started, maybe I wouldn’t have had to work so hard for the both of us