Stranger
The morning we’d planned to talk to the kids, you stood in the doorway of our bedroom, staring at me. Your beautiful face, the one I’ve held in these hands and kissed a thousand times, was the face of a stranger. Tears streaming down your cheeks, you looked so fragile in your sorrow. What was in that look? Regret? Shame? Were you sorry that you’d fallen out of love with me? Sorry that we now had to tell our children? Were you worried that letting me go was a mistake? I’m not asking you to reconsider. I’ve laid my heart…
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