The email contained proof that her husband was cheating. She felt sick to her stomach.

She’d always insisted it would be a deal-breaker; that she’d leave if he ever cheated. She’d told friends to leave in the same situation, and cut them off if they didn’t.

She looked around her at her nice house, full of expensive objects they’d bought with his executive salary.

She thought of their children and their private schooling.

She hit the delete button.

The front door opened and he walked in.

“Dinner is in half an hour,” she said as they kissed hello.