Wilted Love

He got me dead flowers for our tenth anniversary. I could not believe it.
When we first got married, I thought having the anniversary date February 17 was the most romantic thing ever.
Now I realize it’s just an excuse to get me dead flowers.
“But honey,” he said when I complained, “They were only 2 dollars! On sale from Valentine’s Day!”
I sighed. I couldn’t argue with him. I was much too scared he would have another affair—I think 2 is quite enough.
Instead, I put my Eeyore pajamas on and slept as far away from his side of the bed as possible.
It didn’t matter. He never came.
“Honey, I’m going out,” he called.
“You liar,” I whispered to myself, “we both know where you’re going.”
An affair on our anniversary. I never thought he would have had the nerve.
I tucked all my kids in bed and told them Daddy had to work late. Except for Camille, who was thirteen and our ‘mistake’. She knew. She just looked at me. I hung my head and went to bed in shameful silence.
Only then, alone in the darkness, did I cry.

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