It almost never begins with the moment you catch someone.
It begins months earlier, with tiny things you explain away because trusting someone is easier than imagining the alternative.
I had served fifteen years in the Army before retiring after a shoulder injury.
Military life taught me to notice patterns.
A vehicle parked where it should not be.
A door left open.
A story that changes by one detail every time it is repeated.
But somehow, when it came to my own husband, I ignored every warning.
Maybe love makes civilians out of all of us.
Mason and I had been married ten years.
He was charming, ambitious and effortlessly social.
The kind of man who remembered bartenders’ names and could make strangers laugh within five minutes.
For most of our marriage, I believed I knew him completely.
We had no children.
Not because we had never wanted them.
Life simply never gave us one.
Mason knew that subject was painful for me.
What he did not know was why.
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