He Wore My Robe For Her

It was International Women’s Day, a day supposedly meant for honoring the women who anchor our lives. Instead, I watched my husband hand a bouquet of fresh-cut peonies—the ones he’d promised were for our anniversary dinner—to the woman living in the apartment next door.

His first love.

“She’s been living alone for so many years, Diana,” Parker said, his voice smooth but hurried. “It’s Women’s Day. I just wanted to do something kind. Don't worry, I’ll be back in five minutes and then we’re straight to the theater, okay?”