For twenty-three years, I cooked his meals, raised our children, took care of our home, and believed he was my family.
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Then, at a company party, he stood beside his mistress, looked me straight in the eyes in front of everyone, and said:
“You haven’t really been a wife to me for years. You’ve just been taking care of my house.”
He was still smiling when our boss stepped up behind him.
My name is Sarah.
Mike and I had been married for twenty-three years.
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We had two grown children, a house that was almost paid off, and a life I thought we had built together.
For the past nine years, we had worked for the same company, though in different departments.
Our boss, John, had long since become a family friend as well. He and his wife had been to our home for birthdays, family dinners, and holidays.
