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On our seventh wedding anniversary, the Austin air thick with humidity, I stood before a newsstand.
There, on the glossy cover of Austin Monthly, was Caleb Jones, a kid three years my junior, a junior aide from my wife' s campaign.
"Caleb Jones: The Future is Now. A Star on the Rise." the headline screamed, words I knew Jennifer herself had written.
Then, the gut punch: Caleb's Instagram post, "Making our private victories public. Thanks, Jen! This means the world!"
I didn' t feel anger, not the hot, explosive kind. Instead, a deep, bone-chilling coldness settled in.
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