The day my wife Cassandra showed me the footage of me kissing her sister in our verandah, my world simply stopped turning. I thought our marriage was over right then and there. Every single breath caught in my throat, and the warm blood drained entirely from my face, leaving me standing in the center of our living room like a hollow shell of a man. It all started on a Saturday evening that felt entirely normal until it twisted into a nightmare. Cassandra had gone out to visit a close friend of hers who lived a few neighborhoods away. While she was gone, her younger sister Mary came by the house looking for her. Mary is a very striking woman, much more graceful and vibrant than my wife in many ways. To be completely honest with myself—in those quiet, shameful corners of my mind that I tried to hide from the world—I had sometimes thought that if I had met Mary first before I ever laid eyes on Cassandra, I would have wanted to build my entire life with her instead. But life does not work ...
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