On our eighth anniversary, my husband insisted that only I prepare a feast for thirty-eight guests, while he was tucked away at a hotel with the woman from his office. I smiled and said, “Of course,” and a few hours later I was at the airport, leaving thirty-eight covered plates lined up like a perfectly behaved secret. When those covers were lifted, the room finally learned who had been doing the smiling.
On our eighth anniversary, my husband ordered that only I prepare a feast for thirty-eight guests, while he was secretly with his mistress in a hotel. I smiled and said,…
