Gone Before He Noticed

For three years, I was the perfect wife. I planned the trips we never took, swallowed the words I should have said, and looked the other way one too many times. Then his assistant booked my seat as hers for the tenth time, and Mason carried her through the airport while I stood there holding the wreckage of everything I'd made for us. I filed the paperwork from a café in Paris. I resigned before he landed. By the time he came looking, I'd already deleted his number, started a new company, and learned what it felt like to smile without checking his face first.