His Fishing Ruined Us

For three years, my husband spent every weekend night fishing with his female coworker.

I’d screamed. I’d smashed things. He’d just looked at me, his voice dripping with righteousness. “We’re just fishing. Do you have to act like a complete psycho?”

He was even baiting her fishing spot the day I miscarried.

All he said was, “There’s nothing going on between us. You’re disgusting.”

In the fourth year, I stopped checking up on him. I started leaving early and coming home late, wearing a new, expensive perfume every day.