I followed my husband to a hotel because I suspected he was having an affair. I was right about the cheating, but completely unprepared for the woman who walked out beside him.
My father had been dead for nine years, but when my world fell apart, his grave was the only place I wanted to go.
I arrived first.
The cemetery was nearly deserted. The sun had set, and small solar lights glowed beside the headstones.
I sat on the bench near Dad’s grave, clutching my phone.
On the screen was a video of my husband leaving a hotel with his arm around my daughter-in-law.
Mark. My husband of thirty-one years.
Jenna. My son’s wife of three months.
At 8:42, Daniel’s truck entered the cemetery.
Still wearing his hospital scrubs, he hurried over.
