The waiter had barely set down our appetizers when my husband said it. “I think we should see other people.” Just like that. In the middle of our anniversary dinner. The woman at the next table stopped chewing. I looked at Marcus — really looked at him — and realized I didn’t recognize the man I’d married twelve years ago.
“You’re ending our marriage over appetizers?” I asked. He shrugged. “I’ve been unhappy for a while.” The waiter hovered awkwardly with the bread basket. “Is everything alright here?” Marcus didn’t even look at him. “We’re fine.” But we weren’t fine. We hadn’t been fine for months.