En el aeropuerto, casi se me cae la maleta al ver el brazo de mi marido rodeando la cintura de una mujer más joven

That’s when I realized she didn’t know everything either.

I looked at her, then at the envelope in her bag. “You really don’t know, do you?”

She swallowed hard. “Know what?”

Before Ethan could stop me, I reached for the paper sticking out of her purse. She tried to pull it back, but too late. The top page was enough. I saw her name—Madison Reed. I saw his name—Ethan Cole. I saw the clinic letterhead and the words treatment plan, embryo transfer, and intended parents.

My hands began to shake.

Madison covered her mouth. “Oh my God.”

I looked at Ethan. “You used our joint savings.”

He didn’t deny it.

The answer was written all over his face, and suddenly I was back in our kitchen six months earlier, asking why thirty thousand dollars had been withdrawn from our account. He had told me it was a business investment. He had kissed my forehead and told me not to worry. I remembered crying alone in our bedroom after another failed conversation about why he kept postponing IVF for us, even though he knew how badly I wanted children.

All that time, he hadn’t been hesitating.

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