Our Love Has Expired

The day before our tenth anniversary, my husband sprung a sudden business trip on me.

While packing his bags, I unearthed two telling items in a box under our bed.

One was a lipstick he scrimped and saved to buy me when we were just 19.

The other was a pregnancy test that wasn't mine—and it was positive.

I was thrown back to the days when Lucas Wilson was 19, whispering to me.

"Someday, I'll give you the best of everything."

"Just relax and be my princess."

Now, there he was, sprawled on the sofa, laughing up a storm with his mistress, calling me a lazy slob.

That's when it hit me.