When Love Requires Letting Go

In the drawer of my newly acquired house, a place I had yet to call home, I stumbled upon a bottle of lubricant.

Cathy Short, whose cheeks were aflame with embarrassment, confessed that she and Jack Short had succumbed to their passions, unable to restrain themselves. Cathy and Jack were my husband's parents.

My stomach churned with disgust; this was the new bed my husband, William Short, and I had purchased, still untouched by us.

In a surge of anger, I reclaimed the keys from Cathy and Jack.