He'd apologized, come back to the family. We had an infant daughter who needed us both.

But this past year, every time he climbed into bed with me, every time he reached for me as a husband—all I could see was him tangled up with Adela.

I felt sick to my stomach.

I couldn't pretend nothing had happened.

All the hurt and rage I'd been burying came roaring to the surface.

"Then divorce me and marry her!" I screamed. "Kevin, you don't have to keep acting like you're the one making sacrifices here. It makes me want to puke!"

I snatched up that pair of panties and ripped them to shreds.

"Slut! You're both disgusting!"

Kevin watched my meltdown with what looked like satisfaction. He reached out and wiped the tears from the corner of my eye.

"See what you've done to yourself? Getting this worked up just to get a rise out of me—was it worth it?"

"Roberta, that's in the past. Why can't you just move on?"

"We have a daughter now. Stop talking about divorce."

I slapped his hand away and said nothing.

Our daughter had woken up from all the noise and wouldn't stop crying. I went to the bed and picked her up, rocking her gently.

Kevin watched for a moment, then left and closed the door behind him.

Once I got her settled, I went to the living room to get water for her formula. That's when the sharp smell of alcohol hit me.

I looked over at Kevin.

He was sitting on the floor, eyes glazed, several empty bottles scattered around his feet.

He looked half-dead.

Drowning his sorrows because his precious Adela is about to marry someone else?

His phone rang.

He glanced at it. Something flickered across his face. His hand trembled as he answered.

"Adela. I'm here."

The voice on the other end was soft and breathy. "Kevin, she won't let you come see me, will she?"

His expression darkened. "Adela, she's my wife. We have a daughter together. I have responsibilities."

"I know. You're a good man, Kevin. Dependable. Responsible. I always knew I had good taste."

Adela's voice was feather-light, like it might break at any moment.

Kevin gripped the phone tighter, his tone gentle. "We shouldn't see each other anymore. Adela, I hope you and him have a happy marriage. Grow old together."

Just as he was about to hang up, she pleaded:

"Kevin, can I say a few words to her?"

Kevin hesitated, then held the phone out to me. "Adela wants to talk to you. Try to control your temper—don't scare her."