My Stiff Professor Was Her Model

Lately, my husband had turned into a peacock.

Elvis, a notoriously austere university professor of biochemistry, had suddenly developed an appetite for self-reinvention. He was styling his hair with pomade, ordering bespoke suits, and practically living at the gym.

At night, he would come to bed with an uncharacteristic, almost frantic hunger, demanding intimacy as if checking off an urgent quota.

Fingering the platinum band on my left hand, I couldn’t help but wonder: after four years of marriage, had my straight-laced academic finally seen the light?

My best friend saw right through it.