Right before we went to sleep, my husband asked me a question. "Would you ever fall in love with someone else and divorce me?" My face, hidden under a sheet mask, tightened instantly. I lowered my eyes and let out a soft, dry chuckle. "Why? Did you find someone you love?" 1 My words seemed to short-circuit him. His mouth opened and closed, a flicker of panic darting through his eyes. A moment later, he forced the corners of his mouth into a stiff grin. "Sarah, come on. I was just talking hypothetically. Where is your head at?" He stood up, grabbing his running gear. "Go to sleep. I’m going for a night run." "Is that so?" I tried to smile back, but the muscles in my face felt heavy. It was hard because I knew he wasn't speaking hypothetically. A night run? Since when does a lead software engineer, exhausted after a twelve-hour shift of coding, find joy in a solitary run at 11 PM? "Are you going with that girl? The one with the long hair?" Ethan paused, one foot halfway into his sneaker. He turned, a look of genuine alarm on his face. "That's just a colleague from the office." He thought for a second, then added, "We just bumped into each other on the trail. Don't misunderstand." "I saw you two yesterday," I said, my voice quiet. "On the track by the lake. She fed you a piece of chocolate." What I didn't say was that I also heard what she said. Her voice was thick with regret. Why did we meet so late? If only we had met a few years earlier, we could have been together. Ethan swapped his running shoes back for house slippers. I was still standing in the bedroom doorway. He walked over, gripping my shoulders. "You stay at home all day; it's too easy for you to let your imagination run wild. I won't go running tonight. Let's just sleep." He walked past me toward the bathroom. But his wedding ring, usually on his finger, had fallen onto the floor mat next to his running shoes. I knew then. He wasn't just running. He was running away. 2 I needed to know. What kind of colleague was she? What did she have that made her more relaxing to him than his own family? I wanted to see the person who could so easily shatter four years of dating and ten years of marriage. We survived college. We survived the poverty of his early startup days. We survived the death of his mother. We survived the nights we held each other crying when the funding fell through. We survived every time we had to mortgage the house to keep the company afloat. And yet, we were losing to a cup of craft coffee in the breakroom? I saw her at his company's anniversary gala. She was vibrant. Capable. Outside the revolving doors, an intern stumbled, dropping a tower of gift boxes. She rushed forward in four-inch heels, catching the bottom of the stack with one hand, her pearl earrings blurring with the motion. She directed the staff efficiently, then crouched down to put a Band-Aid on the intern’s scraped heel. The whole sequence was fluid, graceful. Her smile was unshakeable. I stood in the lobby, watching Ethan panic as he ran to her side. "Are you okay?" he asked, breathless. She looked up, and her eyes met mine across the security gates. We locked eyes for three seconds. Ethan, realizing I was there, instinctively let go of her hand. He walked quickly toward me, his body positioning itself to block my view of her. "Sarah," he said, his Adam's apple bobbing. "This is my colleague, Claire." A colleague? A special colleague that required him to shield her with his body? Claire looked me in the eye calmly. There was no panic. It was as if I were the intruder. 3 We sat on opposite sides of the long table in his company’s conference room. We looked less like husband and wife and more like two parties in a hostile negotiation. He kept his head down, his hair falling over his evasive eyes. "Sarah..." I looked at him, waiting. He swallowed hard, his lips pressing into a thin line. He didn't continue. I didn't believe for a second that he didn't know I knew. But I wanted to hear him say it. I wanted him to own the decision. Outside the frosted glass, I saw a white silhouette pacing. Ethan saw it too. It seemed to give him the resolve he needed. "Sarah, I'm sorry. But I have to admit, this marriage... it feels like work. I think... I don't love you anymore." I knew it. But knowing it didn't make the words hurt any less. I thought I had prepared myself, but the burning sensation in my eyes betrayed me. "What about Leo?" My voice cracked. Leo is our son. Seven years old. Ethan looked up, startled by my tears. He looked helpless. "Leo... Sarah, Leo is my son. Of course I love him. But..." He chugged a glass of water as if it were vodka. "But I don't want my son growing up in a home without love." Having finally dislodged the boulder in his throat, the rest of the words poured out faster. "Sarah, counting college, we've been together fourteen years. I know you sacrificed a lot for me, for this family. But I work so hard every day. When I come home, I just want to relax. But all you talk about is your parents, the kid, the house... our romance is dead. It's flavorless. I am just... so tired." He finally looked me in the eye. I gripped my sleeves, digging my nails into my palms to stop the tears. "How long have you been together?" He waved his hands frantically. "No! Sarah, I didn't cheat! We haven't done anything physical. It's been strictly professional!" Strictly professional? I laughed bitterly. Does an emotional affair not count as cheating? "Go tell Leo," I said, standing up. "I'll sign the papers." 4 When I walked out of the conference room, Claire was standing by the door. We stared at each other. Neither spoke. She knew who I was. The office was empty; everyone was setting up for the gala. Ethan rushed out behind me. "Sarah, please don't—" I smiled. "Don't what? You think I'm going to hit her?" Ethan’s mouth hung open. He didn't deny it. A wave of bitterness washed over me. Claire looked at me with a calm, almost pitying expression. Pity for what? For disrupting my family? "Don't overthink it, Ethan," Claire said softly, touching his sleeve. "Ms. Fang wasn't going to do anything. I was just worried you wouldn't be able to get a ride, so I waited." Ethan instantly relaxed under her touch. "Silly, don't overthink it..." He stopped mid-sentence, realizing I was still there. The same words. I realized then that "sweet nothings" are recyclable. You can say them to anyone.
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