Every week, she went out for “appointments with her gynecologist.” She said it casually, without explanation, and I didn’t dare ask questions. How could I? I had lost the right to doubt her. But as the visits continued, I began to wonder. Was she sick? Was something wrong? My mind played cruel tricks on me — was she hiding pain from me the way I had hidden my betrayal from her? The guilt twisted deeper. Every time she walked out the door, I felt like I was losing her piece by piece. The Moment of TruthOne evening, unable to bear...
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