My Ring, Her Other Man
lentlessly on the counter.
to ruin the biggest night of
This was for US, Mark! For our future
ager! You're being p
k! Don't you d
acknowledge my pain. It was a familiar pattern. For years, every time I'd voiced a concern, every
e who had to
in separate hotel rooms because a blogger recognized her at the airport. A picture of her birthday party, with me standing in the background of
ealization wasn't a sudden flash of insight. It was a slow, sickening dawning, like watching a photograph develop in a darkroom, the ugly truth gradually taking shape. She hadn't been cheating on me for a night, o
just for her, but for myself.
distraction, something to pull me out of the suffocating memories. I opened
he subject line: "Offer of Positio
itect position at one of the most prestigious firms in the world, based in Vienna. It
en. My eyes sca
king design philosophy... unanimously decided to offer you the position o
dn't felt in a long time, began to flicker inside me. It felt li
o
rk Peterson, the architect, not Sarah Jenkins' secret husband. A chance to build somet
built for myself out of love and misplaced lo
d out
ng Architec
enerous offer. I am
it
leave her, this city, this entire life behind. I wasn