From Deception To Forgiveness. Cheating Wife Stories, Reddit Cheating Stories, Secret Audio Stories

I stood in the shower, letting the hot water flow easily over my body. I've been taking really long showers lately, just standing or leaning against the wall while the hot shower warms me up. More precisely, it warmed my body, since even boiling lava could not bring warmth to my frozen soul. Often I cried for some reason. Tears appeared precisely at those moments when I was in the shower. It was perhaps the only private place where I could surrender to my pain, besides driving a car. Over the past few weeks, tears have added an extra 10 minutes to my usual bathroom time.

I wondered if Liz had noticed how long I was taking in the shower. Though she didn't seem to be paying much attention to me lately. She didn't even realize that I already knew about things that she didn't think I needed to know about. But this morning, I didn't cry. This morning, I was going to visit Richard Groner. Today, things were going to start to change dramatically, though I wasn't sure that what was about to happen would be any less painful than what had already happened.

As I toweled off in complete silence, Carly and Christina were already at school, and Liz had gone to work. I thought about the conversation I had had 2 days earlier with Ernie Matazo. Ernie had a non-descript office in a rundown area of Cincinnati, far from downtown, but he was recommended to me as a guy who knows his business.

"So, Mr. X," he said, as we sat down at the table in his small office. "I did everything exactly as you wanted, although I have never had a client ask me to work this way before." I nodded, and he continued, "I didn't make a video because you didn't want me to, but I have audio recordings from three of their meetings together. I recorded them for you on this CD, just like you said. Are you sure you don't want to hear this?"

I shook my head. "Like I told you, Ernie, if Liz and I have any chance, it will certainly be without this information. I cannot and do not want to hear these sounds in my ears all my life. Just sum it up, okay?"

"In fact, nothing special happened there. It's just, I mean, it's just sex. They didn't talk much, and I never heard words like, 'If only we could be together' or 'When I get divorced.'"

"Did they even talk about me?" I asked. "Or about Groner's wife?"

Ernie thought for a moment. "Groner never mentioned his wife at all. He mentioned your name a couple of times, like, 'I bet your husband can't give you pleasure like that.' But she always cut him off. She never allowed him to humiliate or insult you, and she never brought it up herself."

"What did they say to each other?"

"Mostly, it's just lustful stuff."

I must have flinched because Ernie stopped for a second, looking at me. "Are you okay, Mr. X?"

"Yes," I said. "Please continue."

"Actually, that's all. After sex, when they shower and get dressed, all the talk revolves around when they'll see each other next."

"Does Liz love him?"

"I haven't heard anything like that," Ernie said. "I think they're meeting to sleep with each other."

"Are they doing anything special?"

"Well, you know, in bed. Don't think I definitely haven't heard anything about kinky positions. She definitely makes him feel good, but I think most people do."

We sat in silence for several minutes. In the end, it wasn't as bad as I feared. Yes, it was unspeakably, crushingly painful, but no worse than I imagined. She didn't love him. They weren't going to run away together. She just slept with him. Just an affair. An ordinary affair with a man who was not her husband, with a man who wasn't me.

"Okay, Ernie," I finally said. "Thanks for everything. What do I owe you?" I wrote him a check for almost $8,000 without thinking twice about it, and he pulled out three manila envelopes. "Here is everything you asked for. The first envelope contains about a dozen pictures of the two of them walking in and out of various motel doors. The pictures of them having sex, about four dozen, are in a second large envelope, all taped shut. I hid the negatives along with a copy of the audio CD. The third envelope, as you asked, contains one of the dirtiest photographs. Just one shot, right?"

"Are both faces clearly visible?"

"Exactly," he said.

"Thank you, Ernie," I said again, and stood up to leave.

"Wait," he said. "I almost forgot. What have you learned about Groner?"

Ernie smiled harshly. "He's a real hound, just as you suggested. Betsy, my assistant that I told you about, talked to several people at his firm. He seems to be the best skirt hunter in the whole world, although he seems to be a little cautious about it. The fact is that his wife is the heir to a fortune of $80 million, and naturally, he has no need for publicity."

On the way to Groner's office, I thought back to the last few months. The first signs of impending trouble appeared in early August, about 3 months ago. The last year has been very difficult and frightening for us. Just before Halloween, Carly was diagnosed with leukemia, and we were plunged into an endless nightmare of doctors, hospitals, chemotherapy, and sleepless nights. Our little girl was only 8 years old, but she endured pain and fear with incredible courage and patience. Her sister, Christina, who was 2 years younger, became her constant companion and support. Needless to say, Liz and I didn't care about anything in our lives other than Carly, trying not to be too busy with work to be around her all the time. Our friends, like our own relationships, were completely forgotten.

By the beginning of summer, thank God, Carly went into remission. Little by little, she regained her strength and grew her beautiful hair again. There was at least a 90% chance that she had made a full recovery. In mid-June, we finally received positive test results and celebrated at Disney World for a week. Almost crazy with joy and relief, Liz and I allowed the children everything they wanted: ride all the rides, enjoy all the food, and go to bed as late as possible. These memories will always remain with me as some of the brightest and happiest in my life.

The bad thing was that the ordeal affected my relationship with Liz. When things started to look up, I went back to work as an economic analyst, working in the Cincinnati office of a major New York Bank. My colleagues had been covering for me for months, and now it's time to return to my previous vigorous activities, to move my career forward. Liz's job was less demanding; she was Assistant Director of Human Resources at the University City of Cincinnati Medical Center, but she too was looking to make up for lost time. Looking back now, I can clearly see that neither of us paid enough attention to our marriage.

The first time I heard about Richard Groner was completely innocent. In early July, Liz had to testify in a lawsuit against the medical center, and Groner represented them as an attorney. That evening, after giving evidence, Liz casually mentioned the impression that Groner had made on her: tall, handsome, and extremely smart in the legal battles in which she had become involved. Over the next 2 weeks, I heard twice more about her meeting with Groner, ostensibly to discuss some details of her testimony, and then it was all over. She stopped mentioning him, and I decided I was done with him. Wrong assumption. Liz still saw him, but as their meetings began to turn from legal maneuvers into something else, she simply stopped telling me anything.

In August, we spent our usual two-week vacation at a cabin on Lake Michigan. I must say, this place has always been romantic and wonderful. During the day, the girls played carefree, and at night, Liz and I made love, unencumbered by work and the daily routine of home. But this time, the vacation was different, noticeably different. Although it was difficult to understand exactly what, it wasn't that we made love less, or that Liz wanted it less, at least not at first. She was still affectionate and certainly didn't resist when I carried her to the bedroom. Probably the most noticeable change was that she was somehow distracted, both when we made love and at any other time. She seemed to be in her own world, and this couldn't help but worry me. I had no idea what happened, but I knew something was going on. The few times I've asked her about it, she's responded a little indifferently, that she's still reeling from last year or something, something like that.

Bitterness and disappointment took over me. I missed my wife, and I could tell that she just wasn't there for me. However, her explanation seemed quite convincing. God knows we were both emotionally drained from Carly's battle with cancer, and I just thought that everything would gradually return to normal. I made a mistake. By mid-September, our relationship had deteriorated. Liz always seemed tense and anxious around me. Sometimes she would sit by the window and stare into space with an anxious expression on her face, apparently believing that I couldn't see her. She became more forgetful than usual; she might not be home in time to cook dinner or disappear for the entire day on Saturday and return home without the clothes she intended to pick up from the dry cleaner. Her strange behavior made me seriously worried.

I spent a lot of time thinking about these oddities and what they could mean. Of course, the option of having an affair on the side arose as one of the possibilities, although at the time it seemed crazy to me. This was partly due to the fact that our sex life had not diminished. We still had sex a couple of times a week. This is exactly what happened to us from the moment our girls were born. There were also a couple of evenings when Liz was more enthusiastic than usual, becoming a little wild and demanding. Of course, I liked it, but it could not help but raise new questions: What turned her on? Who was the reason for this? Of course, I started asking her a lot of questions: Is everything okay at work? Is she feeling well? Did I do something to upset her? Her answer remained the same: "Honey, I'm fine, really. I'm just a little tired." What struck me was how casual her answers were, and of course, this was followed by hugs and kisses, which were supposed to calm me down but had the exact opposite effect.

On September 26th, a date I'll never forget because it was Christina's birthday and 10 of her friends were at the party, I casually asked Liz about the hospital lawsuit and whether she was still in touch with Richard Groner, with whom she muttered, suddenly turning pale. I looked at her in disbelief, and she realized. "Well, of course, this lawyer who handled my deposition in a lawsuit this summer. How stupid of me. No, I haven't spoken to him for a couple of months. We we met a couple of times after the testimony, but I think we ended there." Liz went back to washing the dishes, and neither of us said anything else. Suddenly, she started asking me if I had called our plumber about cleaning the pipes, and the amazingly unconvincing change of subject finally shook me awake. Her apparent forgetfulness about who Groner was was so alarming that I had to think about how to proceed.

That night, after she fell asleep, I took her purse and examined it carefully. Of course, I didn't find anything terrible, although there was one mystery. There was nothing unusual in the list of incoming and outgoing calls on her mobile phone; at least, Groner's number was not there. Her diary recorded only the time and place of her testimony on July 8th, and I found two other entries for meetings with Groner. However, there were three places, two in August and one in early September, where all records were carefully erased. It was impossible to understand what was written there. There was nothing else unusual. That night, I lay awake until almost 4:00 in the morning.

The next morning, after receiving a recommendation from a friend, I went to see Ernie Matazo. He called me on October 3rd, briefly saying, "She's having an affair with a guy named Groner. He's a lawyer." This didn't surprise me, but I felt defeated. About an hour later, I called him back and told him to continue his work. "I want you to record two or three of their meetings, audio only, no video, and some photos of them coming and going from the motel or whatever, plus some photos photos of actual sex, if possible."

"I will do everything, have no doubt," he answered categorically, and we discussed the timing of his work and the size of his fee.

Richard Groner was working on the 16th floor of a trendy office building downtown, and his young, busty blonde secretary took great pleasure in informing me that unless I had an appointment, he was too busy to see me. That morning, I smiled at her, then took the business card out of my wallet. On the back, I wrote, "Wait 5 minutes, and I'm going to show some interesting photos to your wife." Handing the business card to Miss Blonde, I said, "Please do me a favor and show him this. I'll wait here." No more than 2 minutes later, she returned, turned, and with poorly hidden irritation, said, "Mr. Groner is ready to receive you."

I didn't know what kind of game he was playing, but his greeting came out light and casual. He came out from behind the table, smiled broadly, and shook my hand cordially. "Mr. Hendrick, how are you? Please come in and have a seat." I had never seen it before, but recognized it immediately from Liz's description of it a few months ago. He was 6'2" or so and extraordinarily handsome. He appeared to be about 30 years old, with a deeply tanned face and piercing blue eyes. It was easy to understand why women might fall in love with him, although at the time it was no comfort to me. I sat silently, waiting for him to start getting nervous. He managed to hold it together quite well, still smiling, no tapping or nervous movements, and it took about a minute before he spoke.

"Well, Mr. Hendrick, how can I help you?"

"Mr. Groner," I said quietly. "My wife's name is Liz Hendrick, and now I hold you in my arms. How hard I squeeze them is up to you." He paused, but this time he couldn't stop his fingers from shaking slightly.

"I'm afraid I don't understand," he said, in his calmest tone possible.

"You slept with Liz," I said, still very quietly. "I have photographs, and I'm pretty sure they could cost you that nice office, your prestigious job, and access to your wife's fortune." He looked anxiously at the envelopes on my lap but muttered, "Sorry, I don't understand what you're talking about."

It turned out to be more fun than I had hoped. I sat for a long time, then silently handed him the first envelope. When he opened it and looked at the photographs, he relaxed and, smiling widely, said, "But that doesn't prove anything other than Liz and I walking in and out of the conference room."

"Motel," I said. "Route 52 in Riverview Heights. Pretty cheap, don't you think?"

He stood up, hoping to get rid of me. "These photographs don't prove anything, Mr. Hendricks. I have to ask you..." Without getting up, I handed him another envelope. He opened it and pulled out a single photograph. Staring at it for a moment, then he put it back in the envelope, leaned back in his chair, and ran a hand through his hair. He looked very unhappy.

"I have several dozen more of the same," I said, "with copies in several safe places." We sat in silence. I watched him, and he stared aimlessly at the wall behind me, comprehending and analyzing the situation.

"What do you want?" he said finally.

"How long has this been going on?" I asked. "And why?"

He laughed. "Because your wife is a piece of cake, man. In case you haven't noticed, I wanted her as soon as I saw her."

"Have you ever seen my wife?"

I shook my head, and he continued, "She weighs 250 lbs, and she sweats. She... well, you understand. Liz is great, much hotter than my cup of tea. How many?"

"About a month. It took me forever to get into her pants, if you ask me. I worked on it all summer, nice and slow, very subtle, just professional. She fought it, kept telling me how much she loved you, the usual thing."

"That's what they all say. True, most of them give up much faster. Probably only at the end of September she..."

"That's enough," I said. "You answered my question." Despite his predicament, he couldn't completely hide his smug grin. It must have been fun for him to sit across the table from his poor, cuckolded husband. I wondered if that was part of the fun for him, not just sleeping with beautiful women, but humiliating their husbands, feeling like the alpha male.

"Fine. Call her right now and break up with her. It was fun, she's great, etc., but it's time to move on. I'm guessing you've done this before." He he looked at me. "What will happen after this?"

"I'll just leave here, and if you're lucky, I won't send the photos to either the managing partner of your law firm or your wife."

"Hey, man, if I call her, you have to give me the photos."

I smiled evilly. "Bad luck, Rich. You only have two options: break up with Liz, and you'll have a chance that your life won't shatter into a million pieces. If you don't do this, Richard Groner's happy life will end in the next couple of hours." He sat down and looked at me, angry and unhappy. Then he picked up the phone.

"I would like to speak with Miss Hendrick, please. This is Richard Groner from Parker and Madoff." He turned in his chair, facing away from me, waiting for Liz to answer the phone. "Hey, baby, it's me. Yeah, I know," he laughed lightly. "You too, I think we were both incredible. Look, no, I can't. No, that's not the point, just listen, Liz, okay? It was fantastic, and you're [ __ ] gorgeous, but we knew the time would come, and it would end. No, no, don't say that. It's not about you, baby, it's just, it's just time to end, you know? And like that song, 'Our love was too hot to stay cool.' Don't be like that. We both knew it wasn't. Look, Liz, don't cry, okay? We both knew it was a matter of time. Of course, there is no one else. Why am I a sneaky idiot? Wait, there are two of us involved here. I didn't handcuff you and drag you into bed that first time. Listen, baby, don't scream. Both of us..."

After a moment, he put the phone back in the cradle. "She hung up," he said, his face becoming serious, all traces of that disgusting smugness gone.

"How long would it last?" I asked.

"I suppose this is not the first time for you. Another couple of months, two or three, maybe."

"She was..."

"Shut up," I said. "I don't need to hear anything else." We looked at each other, and said silence. I knew that he really wanted to get rid of me, but he was in my power.

"Needless to say, you should never contact Liz again. No phone calls, no emails, no letters, no personal visits, nothing."

"Clear," he nodded, looking at me intently.

"She writes you, throw away the letters, writes SMS, deletes messages. She calls, you don't talk to her. She comes here, you don't see her."

He nodded again. "Forever?"

"Richard, I'm not kidding about this. And the pictures?" he asked.

"You'll have to count on my goodwill," I said, and got up from the chair. He also stood up. Before I left, I said, "Oh, one more thing." I quickly stepped towards him and hit him hard, fist below the belt. He groaned and fell to the floor at the table. I walked around the table and looked at him lying on his side, with his legs raised up, gasping in pain, his face distorted. After waiting a few minutes for his pain to subside and his breathing to begin to return to normal, I kicked him again and left the office.

Liz was supposed to be cooking dinner today, and when I walked into the kitchen, she was bustling around, setting the table and deftly managing three pots on the stove. As usual, I hugged her and said, "Hi, dear. How was your day?"

"Oh, hi. Long day. Girls watch cartoons. Would you like a glass of wine, dear?" Her face reflected fatigue and sadness. Judging by her slightly reddened eyes, she had been crying for a long time, but a woman is a woman. Well-applied makeup almost completely hid the traces of her sadness. If I hadn't looked closely, I wouldn't have noticed anything.

Dinner went quite smoothly, which was surprising considering how difficult the previous day had been for both of us. The girls, as always, chatted happily, and this helped Liz and I keep the conversation going at the table more than ever. Carly and Christina were full of discussion about which teachers they hated, how the boys pestered them during recess, and when their next friend's birthday would be. It is impossible to be unhappy around children. For me, this has always been an axiom, even during the entire terrible last month when it seemed to me that my whole life was falling apart. I could not help but smile at them, not laugh with them, not hug them. Thank God Carly recovered. Regardless, I was a lucky son of a [ __ ].

Liz and I helped them bathe, read them bedtime stories, and tuck them into bed, while listening to them excitedly chatter about Halloween costumes. Everything was as usual, but as soon as they fell asleep, all Liz's confusion and pain instantly burst out. I don't think she realized how closely I was watching her. She simply could not sit in one place. She turned the TV on and off, flicking through channels aimlessly, tried to read a few pages of her coffee table book, and finally gave up, simply rushing out of the house. A little later, I went up to our bedroom. Soon, Liz returned home, and I had to listen to her for a long time as she rushed around the kitchen, clearing out our household mess or unloading the dishwasher. Finally, she went upstairs and entered the room.

"Tired and upset?"

"Honey, are you okay?" I asked, trying to sound genuinely concerned. "You'll probably find this weird as hell, but I wasn't going to tell her what I knew about her and Richard Groner or what I did that day, but I couldn't ignore her concern. It might seem strange to her."

"Yeah, never mind," she replied, heading to the bathroom in her nightgown. "Just a little trouble at work."

I didn't put pressure on her. We turned off the light, and she kissed me quickly, turning her back to me. I wondered which of us would have a harder time falling asleep that night. Minutes or hours passed, I don't know, but her breathing remained ragged. Apparently, she couldn't stop thinking about her lover. I don't know when I fell asleep, perhaps already in the morning.

Over the next few weeks, I watched Liz closely. I wanted her to come back to me. I wanted her to remember everything she had with me and the girls, to understand what a terrible mistake she had made, and how lucky she was that our marriage was not destroyed. I wanted her to love me again, the way she loved me before Groner, before Carly's leukemia, before our lives began to fall apart. Of course, I didn't know what I would get in the end. Despite all my observations, at first, almost nothing happened. Liz hasn't changed. Many days, she behaved detachedly, still spending evenings at the window and aimlessly looking at the street. At times, it seemed to me that she simply radiated a feeling of pain and loss, although she always brushed me off if I asked about it.

We made love a couple of times in the first week, and I noticed some strange behavior in her behavior. When we were in our normal position, Liz never opened her eyes or looked at me. She didn't even smile at me like she usually did. Perhaps she was afraid that her gaze would give away something, or perhaps she just wanted to think that I was Richard Groner.

On Friday, 9 days after my visit to Groner, Halloween arrived, and the girls were delighted. We barely had dinner when they both dragged me outside. As always, I went with them while Liz handed out candy to the kids at our house. Due to the festive mood and all the sweets they consumed, the girls stayed up until almost 11:00 p.m. Thank God it was the weekend. Liz and I smiled at each other as we finally tucked them into bed. I decided to read a little before going to bed, and after a while, she came in and sat next to me. Before turning off the light, she said, "Allan, I'm not in the mood for sex tonight, but can we just cuddle together?"

"Of course," I answered softly, and she pressed herself close to me, burying her face in my neck. For a long time, we just lay quietly in each other's arms. I was already thinking that she might want to fall asleep like that, but suddenly Liz raised her head and said quietly, "Allan, I'm really sorry for what I was..."

A little surprised, I don't know for everything, but especially since we've been so distant from each other for the last couple of months. I know that after this whole nightmare with Carly's leukemia, we were all just exhausted, but then I I know that I've been very distant from you lately, and I'm so sorry."

I simply remained silent, accepting this too-late apology. I knew Liz, and I knew she meant it, but I also knew that she would never talk about the reason why she was so distant from me, about her affair with Groner.

"Thank you, Liz," I finally said. "You know, I missed you, and many times I asked myself, 'Is this my fault?'"

"No, no," she exclaimed, interrupting and hugging me to her. "You have always been beautiful, your patience, your kindness, your support. You deserve better, dear, and I'm going to give it to you for the rest of our days."

I was in incredible pain. In truth, every moment of closeness with Liz was a serious test for me. Should I give vent to my anger, my humiliation, and suffering, or, gritting my teeth, remain on the path that I was so passionately embodying? I knew that I had to try. After all, this was the only alternative to ending the marriage. It was damn hard, but I did it.

"Sounds good," I replied, and found her lips with mine in the darkness. I couldn't say another word.

The next night, we made love again. This time, everything was nice but strange and uncertain, not at all like it had been for several months. Moreover, it was Liz who seemed unsure of herself, as if she wanted to please me, but at the same time, she was scared. I had a strong feeling that we didn't know each other very well and were afraid of ruining everything. However, as the days passed, Liz gradually relaxed more and more and returned to normal. The humor that had always been one of the highlights of our relationship, jokes and gentle teasing, had been the way my wife and I communicated since we started dating, started to emerge again. And 2 weeks after Halloween, we had the hottest sex we've had in 2 years.

That evening, I was a little tired after clearing leaves from the yard, so when the girls fell asleep, I happily jumped into the shower. To my surprise, Liz immediately joined me. She washed me gently, and then we caressed each other. After that, we jumped out of the shower and continued our games in the bedroom.

Several months have passed. During this time, different aspects of our relationship normalized at different rates. Above all, we both returned to being happy parents. Although I can say that even at the height of her affair, when Liz was distant and absent-minded with me, she was still the best mother in the world, perhaps even a little more, as if she was making amends for what she did. The second sign that our relationship was gradually returning to a previous state was changes in our sex life. During her affair, the frequency of our sex did not decrease much; no doubt Liz was very careful to ensure that this did not happen, but her interest and fascination with our lovemaking clearly waned. Yes, she rarely refused me, and at times she even took the initiative and reached out to me in bed. However, for me, who at first suspected and then found out about what she was doing with Groner, it was easy to see that her emotional involvement in our sex had dropped sharply. It didn't feel like making love, like the intimate connection between us that I valued so much. It was more like casual sex. She made me happy, but she didn't seem to get much pleasure from sex with me.

After Halloween, everything changed. Our desire to make love became mutual again. If at first these were simply attempts at reconciliation, it gradually became clear that Liz was experiencing the same emotional attachment in lovemaking as before. First of all, she began to take more initiative. I think it was because my wife was yearning to get back to those wild rounds of sex we had in the early years of our marriage. She didn't just put on a show to please me; she became active and passionate, and her excitement was real, not fake. Between November and February, we probably had sex three or even four times a week. Of course, later, it gradually decreased to twice a week, returning to our usual norm, but thank God, the feelings were real. Liz was completely in bed with me, giving me as much of herself as ever.

I wasn't entirely sure we'd ever be able to go back to the past, but it looks like we did. Interestingly, our daily intimacy as husband and wife was fully restored a little later than lovemaking. Without a doubt, this was more about me: my anger, resentment, and doubt than Liz, but every day my confidence that her affair with Groner was safely in the past grew, as did the belief that our marriage could be saved, and she was again able to become my wife, and I her husband, as before. However, even when we were practically back, probably 6 to 8 months after the end of her affair, I was still struggling almost daily with my rage and humiliation, my pain, and even my hatred. I can only remember a few days when I didn't have the desire to kill her, just to grab her [ __ ] deceitful throat with my fingers and squeeze the life out of her. How could she give herself to this bastard, not just once, but over and over again for weeks? How could she have sex with him on rumpled, wet sheets and then come home, smile, kiss, and crawl into bed with me like the loving wife she was only pretending to be? How could she lie and lie and lie? How could our marriage vows be betrayed so easily? There were many similar thoughts and questions, and I could never find an answer to them.

But even considering all these facts, I made my choice. I knew what I wanted, and believed that the course I chose was my best chance for the future. So I just had to swallow it, and even though sometimes I cried in my heart, I moved on with my life. And I want to be honest with Liz. It gradually got better. My beloved wife came back to me long before I began to believe that she actually was back. It was just that in the end, my feelings coincided with reality. I knew that she loved me. I knew that she wanted to be with me. I knew that her sexual desire for me was real.

About 8 months after I met Groner, we again seemed like the loving couple we had been years ago, before Carly's cancer, before Liz's affair. And after about 2 years or so, I woke up one morning and realized that I was happy. That I believed in our marriage again. So it took a long time, and it wasn't much fun, but it looks like I got what I wanted.

It was a warm April Sunday. I was idly flipping through the pages of the style section of the Cincinnati Inquirer when I saw the headline of an article that interested me: "Local Lawyer to Be Named Man of the Year." I'd be damned if it wasn't a photo of Richard Groner. Liz was playing in the garden with the girls, so I had time to read the article carefully. The JC's Foundation was going to honor Groner for his many donations to charities in the Cincinnati area. A $250-per-person fundraising dinner was to be held in his honor at the end of May, with proceeds going to a local kids' club, one of Groner's avowed charitable interests. For a long time, I tried not to think about this creep, but my reaction to the article made it clear to me that I was not done with him yet. I tossed the paper in the trash. There was no point in letting Liz look at the article, and made a mental note to call Ernie Matazo.

"I don't understand, Mr. H," he asked after a pause. "Do you have all the photographs you need of this guy with your wife? Why would you spend money to get proof of his new adventures?"

"Because, Ernie, I'm going to blow this guy's life up once and for all. I want to send photographs and audio recordings to his wife, his law firm. There will be a big public scandal. If I'm lucky, and I don't want my wife's name to be in any way connected with it."

"Well, Mr. H, I'm happy to take your money, but I think you're nuts," Ernie sighed.

It took him less than 3 weeks to collect new evidence. He took some stunning photographs of Groner in bed with Mrs. Athena Wallace, the beautiful wife of 40-year-old city councilman Bernard Wallace. An additional tidbit was that they met while Groner's firm was representing the Wallaces in a lawsuit involving a commercial property they owned. So Groner violated legal ethics by sleeping with her. I've never been so happy in my life that I spent $6,000. I asked Ernie to send these photographs and audio recordings to the ponderous Mrs. Groner, to Mr. Wallace, the managing partner of Groner's law firm, and finally to the Cincinnati Inquirer. The results exceeded all my expectations.

Cincinnati Inquirer, May 5th: Charity fundraiser are cancelled for reasons not mentioned in the article. The JC's Foundation cancelled the Groner Gala dinner.

Cincinnati Inquirer, May 11th: Prominent Cincinnati firm sued. Mr. Bernard Wallace, a member of the Cincinnati city council, filed a legal misconduct claim against the firm of Parker and Madoff. No details were provided. The company declined to comment.

Cincinnati Inquirer, August 18th: City councilman Wallace seeks divorce; local lawyer quoted. Bernard Wallace was divorcing his wife, and guess which prominent local lawyer was mentioned in the article as her alleged lover.

Cincinnati Inquirer, September 10th: Groner fired from firm. Parker and Madoff announced the dismissal of Richard Groner, citing inappropriate conduct. No additional details were provided. Groner could not be reached for comment.

Cincinnati Inquirer, November 11th: Councilman settles dispute with law firm. Parker and Madoff reached a financial settlement with Bernard Wallace in a lawsuit against the firm. Neither side disclosed any details, but an anonymous source suggested the payout to Wallace was in excess of $2.4 million.

Cincinnati Inquirer, December 29th: Lawyer Leestown, who was involved in the Parker and Madoff scandal, Richard Groner, who is facing a disciplinary hearing and possible disbarment, is moving to California. Anonymous sources said the article mentions his recently finalized divorce from Mrs. Elizabeth Groner, heir to the wealthy Vanderbilt family.

I have resisted the temptation many times to leave newspapers on the kitchen table, open to any of these stories. Unlike me, Liz didn't read the newspaper every day, but the main thing was that that wasn't the case. My goal was not to rub her nose in the affairs of her former lover. I had to destroy the son of a [ __ ] who seduced her. I think she heard or read something about him because a number of similar articles were on the front pages of many newspapers, but neither she nor I ever spoke about it to each other. And after the final article, there was no more news about Richard Groner. I got my revenge, and it felt damn good. Our marriage was on a revival, our girls were healthy and happy, and even our careers were taking off. Life had never seemed so good.

But fate always has its whims, doesn't it? Life was wonderful, and it remained wonderful until our girls were 17 and 15 years old, respectively. Carly's leukemia completely disappeared, and both girls became healthy and athletic stars on their soccer and basketball teams. They never had problems with their studies, nor with their behavior. Our children were wonderful, amazing. Liz and I never tired of telling each other how blessed we were by life.

On one of the clear, warm days that April is so famous for in our area, I first heard from my wife about a guy named Tom C. Bernardo, who, it turns out, had joined the staff of the medical center. At first, I only heard his name from Liz. "This guy seems to think he's God's gift to women. He had already hit on Marcia, asked Alexa out on a date three times, and flirted with all the secretaries in our office," my wife told me with a laugh.

"What is he like, Liz?" I asked immediately, alarmed. My complete trust in Liz was lost many years ago, and I didn't think it would ever return.

"Quite cute in my opinion, strong with a square jaw and dark eyes, although to be honest, he is so vain and aggressive that it ruins the entire impression of his appearance. He acts as if he should look at a woman, and she should fall into his arms. Some of our senior women are already a bit obsessed with him."

Over the next four weeks or so, I heard my wife talk about Tom C. Bernardo from time to time. "It's not just Tom," my wife said. "He insists on being Tom K. Can you believe it?" Apparently, even then, his aggressive attitude towards the women with whom he worked was becoming a problem for the staff, not so much as jokes, but as growing irritation. And then Liz just stopped mentioning Bernardo from the word absolutely. When I asked her about this man one day, my wife simply waved her hand vaguely. "Oh, he's still here. I haven't been communicating with him much lately. No longer in the same work group." Her voice seemed to sound indifferent, and when I tried to focus on our old topic, asking if he was still bothering the female staff, she said a short phrase, "Not that I'm interested in that." She clearly wanted to drop the subject, so I didn't touch her any further.

But he never ceased to be surprised and worried. The phrase, "If you get burned by milk, you will get burned by water," is certainly applicable in my case. I watched Liz's every word, every move, and it began to seem to me more and more that she was falling into the same detached demeanor that had characterized her so much during the first weeks of her seduction by Richard Groner. She clearly had something on her mind. Even our girls noticed it a couple of times and teased their mother at dinner about her absent-mindedness. "Maybe it's Alzheimer's disease, Dad? Perhaps we should find a place for Mom in a nursing home," Carly once joked. Carly and Christina laughed, and even Liz managed a painful smile. But I knew something was wrong, and it wasn't Alzheimer's.

Days and weeks passed. Liz actually became a little distant from me, although still tender. We made love regularly, and at least sometimes she seemed as passionate as before. She was still interested in my work, what the girls were doing, and our family's life in general, as she always had been. But, but from time to time, she began began to leave for late meetings, sometimes lasting until 8:00 p.m. From time to time, there were phone calls that she received in her office behind closed doors. Once or twice, the calls were from female colleagues; I knew this because I answered them myself, but I had no idea who the other callers might be.

One evening, after one of the evening meetings, she entered the house with an absent-minded and excited expression on her face. I stood up to hug her, but she said, "Let me take a shower first, okay, Alan? I'm tired and dirty." Ignoring her protests, I hugged her, holding her tightly and smelling her hair. She clearly hadn't washed since morning. On the other hand, there was no smell of sex or a man; she smelled only of herself. I let her go, and she headed to the bedroom. Later, sitting with her in the kitchen while she made herself a sandwich, I said, "Listen, Liz, is something bothering you? You haven't been yourself lately, and I miss you. Don't you want to talk to me about anything?"

She looked at me worriedly and said, "No, dear, it's just that work has become a little stressful lately, but nothing special is happening. I could do without these late-night meetings, but when the principal or vice principal says we all have to be there, there's not much I can do." She smiled at me, clearly trying to see if I had calmed down, and I pretended that I had. But after she went to bed that night, I sat in the living room until 2:00 in the morning, thinking, "Is it time to call Ernie Matazo again?" One thing I understood with absolute certainty: if Liz cheats on me again, our marriage is over. It was with this thought in my head that I finally went to bed.

4 days later, all my doubts exploded in ways I never could have imagined. On Monday, getting ready for work after breakfast, Liz said, "Honey, I'm sorry, it turns out I have another damn meeting today. I probably won't be home until 9:00 or so. Can you cook dinner for you and the girls?" And without waiting for my answer, she blew me a kiss and headed to her car in the garage.

I don't know what happened to me at that moment. Apparently, something just broke inside, and I rushed after her. When she got into her minivan, I jumped into the passenger seat and glared at her, catching her surprised look in response. "No, everything is not okay. There's something going on that you're not telling me about, and I want to know what the hell it is."

"Is Allan," she said with carefully considered, sarcastic calm. "This is just a late senior staff meeting. I really don't understand what you're so upset about."

"Maybe you don't realize how many late nights you've been on lately, or how alienated you have become from me and the children. You're not being honest with me, Liz."

"For God's sake, Alan, have I ever given you a reason not to trust me?" My wife didn't even try to hide her anger. That's all. Her questions seemed to rip apart my brain, and all the years of self-control disappeared in one angry moment.

"Maybe when you spread your legs for Richard Groner," I shouted wildly. "Maybe now that you are going to do it again with that bastard Bernardo. So if this is the case, you can say goodbye to our marriage." Furious, I got out of the car and slammed the door. I glanced out the window and saw Liz's face. It was completely white, stunned, and frozen, with its mouth half open. She didn't make a sound.

As I burst back into the house, I rushed around the kitchen, my blood boiling with rage, my head filled with righteous indignation. How dare she lie and cheat on me again? What a [ __ ]! It must have been more than 20 minutes before I calmed down and began to realize what I had done. I revealed the secret that allowed me to save my marriage with Liz. All my anger, resentment, pain, what was held in place only by monstrous self-control, everything collapsed in an instant. I no longer saw the last 8 years of a calm marriage. My thoughts were only about her betrayal. Need I say that I dragged myself to work without much enthusiasm? Problems with concentration, bleak scenes of the near future, devastation in every sense. Am I really going to lose everything now? After so much time has passed, will Carly and Christina have to deal with their parents' divorce later? Anger and pain were partially replaced by sadness. Sad for the girls, sad for myself, even a little sad for Liz. But mostly, and more and more every day, I felt a seething rage. This [ __ ] [ __ ]! I acted with incredible restraint, literally killed myself trying to save our marriage, and she goes and does it again.

By evening, I realized that I simply could not go home. I couldn't look her in the eye or talk to her calmly. I called and told Christina that I would be late and they could have dinner without me. I pulled up to the Hyatt, checked into my room, ordered a sandwich and a beer, and sat glumly watching a series of silent films until almost midnight. Late that night, I went home, quietly packed my suitcase.

with my toiletries and clothes for a few days and headed back to the hotel. Fortunately, Liz was fast asleep. She didn't even move. Move while I silently walked around the dark bedroom. It was all I could do not to wake her by screaming and cursing.

The next day at work, I felt even worse. It seemed that with every passing hour, anger and rage took over my mind, nullifying all my concentration at work. My cell phone was turned off, and my office phone went to voicemail. By 4:00 p.m., I had seven messages. Three of them were from Liz, and I forced myself to listen to the first one. In a trembling voice, she said, "Cute, are you all right? I'm so, so sorry about Richard. I had no idea you knew about this, but I swear nothing is happening to Tom, Bernardo, or anyone else. Please believe me, darling. Please come home so we can talk. I'm so, I'm so, so sorry. Please come home." The other two messages were about the same. I cursed when I deleted them. She was very sorry. How nice.

That evening, it was my turn to cook, and I realized that I couldn't leave the girls without dinner. I ordered a couple of pizzas and a large Greek salad from Giovani and took them home around 5:30. When Liz couldn't be home yet, I hurriedly ate and joked with the girls for a few minutes, then told them I had to get back to work and left the house. It was another angry and lonely night at the Hyatt.

On the third day, I still didn't return home, and by the evening, there were five more messages from Liz. Like a carbon copy, they were all tearful and apologetic, and in all of them, she swore that she was not sleeping with Bernardo. I just didn't want to talk to her. I didn't want to listen to her, see her face, damn it, even think about her. So I sent her a text message that said, "Really? And why on Earth should I trust you?" I turned off my cell phone and headed back to the Hiatt. This time, I didn't even call the girls. Let Liz herself try to explain why Dad didn't sleep, sleep at home for the third night in a row.

Thursday came, my fourth day away from home, and I knew I had to do something. Overwork and emotional excitement began to take their toll on me. Besides, I missed my daughters terribly. Although it still seemed to me that if I met Liz, I would simply explode. I was starting to think about taking the girls and inviting them to dinner without Liz.

Then, at about 2:30, a middle-aged man, vaguely familiar to me, walked into my office. "Mr. Hendrick," he said, "I'm Peter Danielson, a lawyer for the medical center. We've met a couple of times before." I actually remembered him from a couple of meetings with Liz's colleagues and invited him to sit down. "Can I close the door?" he asked, and I nodded, waiting for him to return to his seat.

"I know that I have no legal grounds to ask you," he began, "but I will still ask you to keep our conversation confidential. I hope that after we talk, you will understand everything. Your wife asked me to come and talk to you," he continued, and as I was about to answer, he raised his hand to stop me. "There is a very sensitive situation at the medical center right now regarding Tom K. Bernardo, so she told me that, well, you might have gotten the wrong impression. Please note that I am going to tell you all the circumstances of this case, and as I said, I will respectfully ask you to maintain complete confidentiality."

The story he told me came as a big surprise. Bernardo sexually harassed several women at the hospital, and in one case, committed sexual assault. Danielson was currently working with women, two of whom reported to Liz, as they carefully built a case against Bernardo. As a result of hidden research, it turned out that Bernardo left his previous job due to the threat of such accusations. The problem was that he was the nephew of the junior senator from Indiana, and everyone was afraid of the potential [ __ ] storm his uncle could stir up if the situation wasn't handled properly. Peter and his legal staff acted very carefully and discreetly to gather all the evidence for the affidavit before reporting to the police. This is what was discussed in Liz's later meetings, which is why she has been so busy and distant for several weeks.

When Danielson finished his story, I sat quietly for a few moments. The first thing I felt was relief and jubilation. Thank God she didn't cheat on me again. Maybe we can figure everything out after all. But my delight did not last long. Why the hell couldn't she tell me this story, or at least part of it? Didn't she trust me enough to know that I would keep my mouth shut? This begs another interesting question: Isn't Danielson throwing dust in my eyes by simply covering up Liz's adventures? He and my wife worked together and knew each other well. Perhaps he was just doing her a favor by making me believe this fairy tale.

"Why didn't Liz tell me about this?" I asked him.

"It was at my request, Mr. Hendrick," he smiled guiltily. "We were all a little, well, to be honest, paranoid. So I asked that no one say a word about it, not even spouses, until the facts were made public."

"And when will it be?" I asked sardonically.

"Next Monday," he said seriously. "We have finally collected all the evidence, and the arrest will probably be made by Monday afternoon."

I had nothing to say. I thought some more and then told him I was willing to keep it confidential. "Thank you," he said, getting up from his chair. "And I'm truly sorry if this situation has created problems between you and your wife. She was experiencing a lot of stress because of this. Some of the victims are her close friends. I know we will all be glad when the case ends up in the hands of the police and Bernardo is fired."

When I walked through the front door that evening, Liz was standing in the hall, wearing an apron, clearly nervous. There were dark circles under her eyes, and the tension in her entire body was literally felt in her skin. I thought I looked about the same. "Hi, Alan," she said, coming up to me for a hug. The look on my face must have changed her mind because she stopped, startled, and just looked at me.

"Hi, Liz," I walked past her to hang my coat in the closet.

"Are the girls at home?"

"They're upstairs on their computers," she said as I walked into the kitchen. Dinner was boiling on the stove, and the table was already set. I grabbed a beer and sat down at the bar.

"Has Peter Danielson reached you?" she asked nervously.

"Yes, he came today, and we talked."

Silence rained. Liz stirred the pasta on the stove, apparently expecting me to say more.

"Darling, I hope, I hope he calms you down. I mean, about Bernardo, that nothing ever happened between us. I'm really sorry I didn't tell you."

"Yes, I heard his version. As for reassurance, let's just say the jury is still out."

She looked shocked. "I don't understand. Didn't he explain about sexual harassment and this sensitive matter?"

"Yes," I said calmly. "A very convincing story. I think it might even be true, but let's just say I'll wait until I see it all in the papers."

Liz opened her mouth, then closed it. I could see that she was amazed at my skepticism, but I didn't care. After more than a minute of silence, she said, "Will you, will you, will you come home?"

"I'm back. Bye. The suitcase is in the trunk. I'll get it out later when the girls are in bed."

"How are they doing, by the way? What do they think is happening?"

"I told them you were working on a big project and needed to stay at the office for a few nights, but I don't think they believe me. I just didn't want to involve them in this, at least not until you and I talked."

She turned to me pleadingly, and I saw traces of tears on her cheeks. "Alan, please. I know we have something to talk about, about Richard Groner and everything else. I'm very, very sorry. It never even occurred to me that you knew anything about this. I feel so ashamed." She fell silent for a while, crying softly into her hands, and then said, "But I never, never did nothing with Tom Bernardo or any other man. I swear."

I looked at her and shrugged. I wasn't particularly sure of her words.

The dinner was strange and strangely funny at the same time. The girls were happy to see me and full of curiosity about what was happening, but as teenagers, they didn't express any emotion directly. They teased me more than usual. I looked old. My tie was terrible. Why didn't I exercise anymore? And I enjoyed, enjoyed it, knowing it was their way of reconnecting with me. Their energy and cheerfulness also helped mask the fact that I had nothing to say to Liz. I tried to ignore her, unnoticed by the girls, who were busy with their stories and teasing. After dinner, I spent some time with each of the girls, discussing their problematic school situations and just reveling in the joy of being with my wonderful daughters. And when they went to their rooms, I took out my suitcase, unpacked it, undressed, and immediately went to bed. I did all this without saying a word to Liz, who was standing in the bathroom in her nighty, combing her hair. She watched me wearily, and when I was about to turn off the light, she said, "Allan, can we talk?"

"I don't think we have anything to talk about," I said, turning away from her.

"But honey, we..."

"When I see Tom Bernardo's face in the paper," I interrupted her abruptly, "and read all about how he was arrested, then I will be ready to talk. And today, I came back because I miss the girls."

With these words, I turned off the light. Before I fell asleep, I heard her quietly crying.

Over the next few days, until the following Monday, I tried my best to hold back and be calm, at least in front of Carly and Christina. I think I did a pretty good job, although they couldn't help but notice the tension between me and their mom. But when Liz and I were alone, my anger and suspicions literally boiled over. As soon as she uttered a word, in order not to completely break down, I was as cold and distant with her as possible, answering questions with a minimum of words, making it clear that I did not want to be near her. There was an expression of helpless suffering on her face, but instead of sympathy, I felt even greater rage and anger. "[ __ ]," I thought, "you deserve it. You have a husband who doesn't trust you an inch, and you are the one who made this possible."

Tuesday morning, as I was making coffee in the kitchen, Liz walked in with the Cincinnati Enquirer in hand. Without saying a word, she handed me the newspaper, holding the front page so that I could see the headline: "Administrator of the Medical Center Has Been Arrested." On the first page was a black-and-white photograph of Bernardo, apparently taken from the archives. I took the newspaper and read the article carefully: "Sexual Harassment and Sexual Assault. Four Alleged Victims, Nine Charges Filed. He was fired from the hospital. He hired Granato and Gevy, one of Cincinnati's most prominent law firms, to defend himself. Bernardo maintained his complete innocence, saying it was all just a misunderstanding. Anonymous quotes from hospital colleagues expressed shock and dismay. 'He was such a nice guy. No one would have expected this,' blah, blah, blah."

I put the newspaper down and looked at Liz, who was looking at me expectantly. "Well, it looks like it's all true," I said slowly. "This guy looks like a complete scumbag. Can you tell me who the victims were and how they were doing?"

To my surprise, her face went limp, and she began to cry, covering her face with her hands. For a moment, tenderness broke through the wall of anger and indignation. I walked over to my wife and gently hugged her, allowing her to rest her head on my shoulder. She cried and sobbed for several minutes. "I was so afraid that you would never talk to me again. I just didn't know what to do," she blew her nose, then wiped her wet eyes with a napkin. Looked me straight in the eyes and said solemnly, "Alan, I had nothing in common with Bernardo, nothing, I swear. Besides helping Alexa, Diane, and the others when that son of a [ __ ] bothered them. They were so broken and devastated, especially Diane. And this is precisely what all the meetings from which I returned late were dedicated to."

"I know. I wish you would tell me about it, but I know Danielson asked you not to."

Silence rained. The gentle mood seemed to quietly slip away, and the room was once again filled with tension.

"But there is another... my, my novel," Liz whispered quietly.

I didn't say anything, just watched as she tried to hold my gaze. She couldn't do it and looked down. "Allan, I'm so sorry. I feel so ashamed. I had no idea you knew. And I... when I... and did I... it was like how you feel after a nightmare. It was as if I was in some kind of terrible dream. I was horrified by what I had done, horrified and furious with myself. And then I realized one more thing. I realized that I was the luckiest woman on earth. I did this, did these terrible things, but now it was all over. You didn't know anything, and I still had our marriage and our children. And then I swore to myself that it was..."

Liz was interrupted by the sounds of girls rushing up the stairs to the kitchen, late for the school bus as usual. The room was filled with frenzy and laughter for a few minutes as they grabbed muffins and juice, shouted out their after-school plans to us, hugged and kissed everyone, and ran out the door. When they left, we smiled at each other, and the room still seemed to vibrate with their noise and energy.

"We're so lucky," I said, and Liz nodded.

"They are amazing girls," she said. "And it's not just luck. We've been good parents all these years."

We smiled for a moment longer, and Liz took my hand. But then she leaned towards me and said, "Allan, how did you find out about, about my novel? And why didn't you say anything?"

"No," I said sharply. Rage instantly took over me, as if an invisible switch had been turned on. All the tenderness and intimacy of the morning disappeared. I let go of her hand and stood up from the table. "We lived well for 8 years without talking about it, and I'm not going to talk about it now."

"But honey, we..."

"Which part of the word 'no' didn't you understand, Liz?"

"Sorry, I have to get ready for work." Without looking back, I walked up the stairs to shave and get dressed.

The next 3 weeks were terrible for me, for Liz, and probably for the girls too. They must have become increasingly perplexed as to why their parents treated them with the same love but hardly spoke to each other. And of course, Liz was sad and suffering, while I was cold and distant. I just couldn't help it. When I was away from her, like at work or at the gym, I could think about it and understand it. Her only affair happened many years ago. Yes, I suffered then. Then I dealt with it and managed to save our marriage, expecting her to return to me. And she, she loved me. I knew it, and for many years now, we were happy again. I could talk like this until I returned home. During our meetings, and above all, during her attempts to establish some kind of intimacy with me, I was overcome with anger. In my imagination, I again began to see all the terrible pictures that I had long ago stopped imagining, pictures of Liz in G.R.'s bed. I couldn't even talk to her in a calm tone unless it was a normal conversation about work, home, or girls. Whenever she tried to discuss her affair, her feelings, or mine, I felt an explosion coming and interrupted her or simply left the room. Just like 8 years ago, I started taking long showers again. Only I was no longer crying but seething with anger, cursing her and reconsidering my elaborate revenge fantasies: Gathering up the girls and just disappearing, leaving her penniless, never letting her see any of us again. Things like sex do not make me laugh. The very idea of touching Liz drove me almost into a frenzy of rage and jealousy. Of course, she saw that I didn't want to talk to her. I made that clear. Then she tried an old-tested tactic.

Two days after the newspaper article about the medical center, as we were going to bed, she tenderly reached out to my hand and squeezed it, an unspoken call whose meaning was very clear. During our happy years, I was always delighted when she showed interest in sex. I was glad that I didn't always take the initiative myself, that she also felt the desire. Now, my answer was simple and categorical: "No," I said, without even turning around. She removed her hand and silently went to sleep next to me.

A couple of nights after one of these rejections, when I came out of the bathroom, she started talking before I could get into bed and turn off the light. "Allan, I love you. I miss you, and I want to make love. Can I, please?" Her voice was quiet and tense. I was taken by surprise and sat down on the bed to think about my answer. But she waited in vain. My feelings did not change, and anger still devoured me from the inside. "No," I finally said firmly. "I don't want to. I can't even think about having sex with you because I'm haunted by images of you and that bastard. This pisses me off. I can't even touch you."

"But Allan," Liz said, starting to cry, "that was 8 years ago. We were so happy together all these years. Please, won't you let me do this?"

I just shook my head, not looking at her, and listening to her quiet sobs. A few minutes later, she stood up, put on her robe, and left the room. I went to bed and, to my amazement, quickly fell asleep.

The next day, around 6:30, I walked into the quiet house and saw Liz waiting for me at the kitchen table. My wife looked tired and sad. Her face was tense. The bags under her eyes were deeper than ever before. "Carly and Christina went to the Chinese Garden to eat. I need to talk to you alone, Alan."

"Okay." I sat down opposite her.

"I'm on the edge, Alan," she said quietly. "I love you. I'm so sorry I did this to you, and I don't know how to fix it or even how to contact you. When I made that terrible mistake, I got involved with G.R. You must have been damn angry, but you didn't say a word to me. And now, 8 years later, it's like I've lost you. I just don't know what to do."

I couldn't give her any answer, so I just shrugged.

"Alan, can we meet with the consultant? I can get a referral from Sarah at the hospital without telling her who it's for. She knows who is best to contact. After all, she has been working at the center for many years. In fact, I've already thought about this possibility."

"Fine, but it must be a man. I want to talk to someone who can understand how I feel being in the position I'm in."

"That's fine with me, honey," she said with obvious relief. "I'll talk to her tomorrow." She reached out and took my hand, and I didn't take it away.

"Thank you." Sebastian Maelo turned out to be a cheerful and fat man of 50 years old. Not just chubby, he looked exactly like a big beach ball. He had ruddy skin and large jowls that shook when he laughed or giggled. But at the same time, within 5 minutes, I could understand that he was smart and knew his business. Perhaps it was the calm and concentrated expression on his face and the liveliness of his gaze, or how carefully and sensitively he knew how to listen, somehow I knew how seriously he took it all. After exchanging greetings, he asked us why we were here, and Liz answered first.

"I had an affair 8 years ago. I believed that my husband did not know about this. When it ended, it was like our marriage had been reborn. We were really happy, at least I think so. A few months ago, he thought I was having another affair, although there was nothing, and in anger, he let me know that he knew about the first, sorry, I mean the only affair, which happened 8 years ago, and since then, Allan has distanced himself from me. He doesn't want to talk to me about his feelings, doesn't want to let me explain myself and tell me how I feel, and he doesn't, I mean, we're not intimate anymore. I love him and miss him. I know I'm so damn guilty about everything, and I don't know what to do." She leaned back and wiped her eyes with a napkin.

"Allan," said Sebastian, "how do you see this?"

"To a large extent, as well. I, I managed to control my anger then. For me, the decision to remain silent about what I knew seemed to be the only viable option. I stuck to it strictly, and it worked out pretty well. But now, ever since she found out that I knew about her and Richard Groner, that's the guy's name, all the old anger came back. I just can't control him, and I'm furious all the time."

"Okay," Sebastian said after a minute. "Liz, could you tell me about this affair? How and why it happened?"

"We don't need specific details, Alan. I'm asking you not to comment until she's finished."

Liz shared the backstory: Carly's terrible year of leukemia, our exhaustion and despair, and then the incredible relief of her treatment. How Liz and I were trying to get our work lives back on track and lost touch with each other. All this was familiar to me, and she told the story much as I would have told it. But the story of her seduction, of course, was new to me. It turns out that G.R. was very gentle and patient. He was in no hurry to get her into bed right away. After becoming her friend, he listened to her talk about Carly's illness, how it affected our family, how we grew apart. In a clever way, he was able to put himself between Liz and me, making her feel like he was someone she could trust, someone who understood what she was going through, rather than her distant, emotionally unavailable husband.

"How long did it last?" Sebastian asked her softly.

"There was no physical intimacy for a long time. Well, about 6 weeks, I think. Our first, first connection..." She turned to me and said, "I'm sorry, Alan. The first time we found ourselves together, well, in bed, was at the end of September, and then, well, it all ended towards the end of October."

"What happened?" Sebastian prompted her.

"He interrupted it. He just called me in the middle of the workday and said, 'Hey, it was great. We had fun, but it's over.' He was cruel. I, I was in a lot of pain. I felt like I had been punched in the stomach that day. I was literally choking on tears, not understanding what I did wrong, where I made a mistake. And then, for the next few days, I felt like the biggest fool in the world. I felt betrayed, without even realizing that it was actually me who betrayed." She looked at me. "It was only, only after a couple of weeks that I started to come out of it and realized what an idiot I had been and how lucky I was to have a husband. It was like recovering from a bad fever, gradually feeling better, more like yourself, you know. But the worst thing was later, when I began to realize that Allan and the girls were with me all this time, as if they were waiting for me, although they knew nothing about it, as I thought." She suddenly fell silent and shrugged.

"Could you tell me a little more about how you felt, both during the affair and then after it ended?" Sebastian's words were soft and sympathetic, but at the same time serious.

"When I met Richard, I was almost hypnotized. It seemed to me that there were two different people living inside me, or that I was living in two different worlds, something like that. When we were together, he was damn skilled, I mean, like a lover, and yes, it was very exciting sex with someone new. So, when we were together..." She looked at me to see how I was taking it. I sat motionless, looking at her blankly.

"I felt empty."

"When you were together?" Sebastian encouraged her.

"During our meetings," she winced and then continued, "I just flew away. When he wasn't around, I thought about him, wanted him, dreamed of being with him all the time. Sex with him filled my entire mind, and I remembered our closeness constantly. He managed to become not just my lover at that time. It seemed to me that he had become the person closest to me, my friend, the one who understood me, almost my savior." She turned to face me. "I would never go to bed with him just for sex, Alan, not with him or anyone else. It wasn't just about sex for me, although later I was able to see that sex was what mattered to him. The first few times we made love, he was gentle and attentive like a lover, but later it quickly turned into something else, pure sex. Although I didn't realize it at the time, it wasn't until much later that I realized that in his mind, I was just an available girl to be had, a [ __ ] who didn't need to be paid. I was such a fool." She looked wearily at the floor.

We waited for her to continue. "And at home, when I was away from Richard, I seemed to freeze. I couldn't understand why I was cheating on Allan. I still loved him and knew that what I was doing was terrible, but it was like there was a veil between me and my feelings, like I was on Novocain or something. I knew it was wrong, but I didn't feel anything. And when he asked me what was bothering me or told me how worried he was about us growing apart, I, I just didn't want to deal with it. I closed myself off from Allan, apologizing and saying that I was tired or busy at work. I simply pushed him away. At home, I never allowed myself to think seriously about what I was doing with Richard or what the consequences might be."

It became quiet. I realized I had my arms crossed tightly across my chest and was shaking a little. "And then, when did the affair end?" Sebastian suggested.

"Well, like I said, it was like coming out of a fever, like a cloud of fog had lifted from my eyes, and then I felt again those forgotten sensations. Of course, what tore me most of all was shame. I loved Allan, and it always seemed to me that I was not one of those women who cheated on their husband and risked their happy marriage and the well-being of their children because of some ridiculous love. But at the same time, I felt incredible relief. Time passed, and everything was fine. I was just lucky. I did this terrible thing and somehow did not destroy my marriage and my life. With each day that passed, I thanked heaven and was determined to do everything, anything, to make Allan happy with me. I just wanted to love him, make love to him, be the wife he deserved. He was so patient and kind with me, so..." She looked at me again. "I came to my senses. I think I started spending more time with Alan. We made love a lot, and I looked for ways to show him how much he meant to me. We were happy. I thought. I still think that we were happy for 8 years now. I have felt happy and damn lucky until the last couple of months."

We went to Sebastian twice a week. It's funny, but we always sat on the same chairs. I'm on the left, and told our stories. When it was my turn, I didn't have to talk about Carly's illness or its consequences, but I did tell him about Liz's increasingly distant and distracted manner and her occasional evasiveness. Then I told him about the day she pretended not to know who Richard GRET was and how much it disturbed me. So I hired a private detective, and he got what I asked for: photos and audio.

Liz gasped, and I turned to her. There was horror on her face. "I never listened to these tapes," I said, "and I never saw the photographs. I knew I couldn't. I'd never be able to get through this if I did." I turned back to Sebastian. "Just imagining it was bad enough. The anger was, it was unlike anything I had ever experienced in my life. I took long showers just to be alone. I cried there, leaning against the wall, or made plans for sophisticated revenge. I wanted to kill them both, like stab them to death, or strangle them, or catch them in a hotel room and drag them naked straight out into the street, into the parking lot. I also thought a lot about confronting Liz, about forcing her to confess in front of the kids, or at Thanksgiving dinner in front of her parents."

Liz sat next to me, white as a sheet. Sebastian said quietly, "It must have been a terrible time for you, and yet you did not confront her, did not demand a divorce. Did you think about that?"

"Certainly," I laughed. "I even thought about taking the children and just disappearing, moving to another state. But girls, you know, I myself went through my parents' divorce. They separated when I was 10, and it was terrible, scary. They were both angry at each other and could no longer parent me, my brother, and my sister. Essentially, they acted like two children, and the three of us were just caught in the middle. And shortly before Liz's affair, my brother and his wife got divorced, and I watched their children go through the same thing. I just didn't want to do it with Carly and Christina. How could I, after Carly was so sick? So I decided that I would do anything to save our marriage."

"But you could tell Liz everything and insist that she end the affair," Sebastian said.

"I, I just didn't think it would work. I wasn't sure I could control my anger. I just saw those weeks and months when she tries to make amends to me, and I'm not even going to talk to her." I smiled ironically. "Something like where we are now. Besides," I continued, "I knew I couldn't believe a word she said. Let's say she told me she loved me or got me into bed. How could I trust her? How could I know that she really wanted me and wasn't just hoping I wouldn't kick her in the ass? I had to see, albeit over time, that she really felt the same way about me as she had throughout all the years of our marriage. And I pretended. I played the loving husband and kept the anger and despair inside. Except for the shower, I just went to work, came home, and cooked dinner, took care of the kids, even had sex with Liz from time to time. Precisely sex, because I wouldn't call it loving."

Liz sat quietly next to me, pale and devastated.

"And your plan was to wait it out and just deal with it until Liz's affair ended?"

"Time for honesty. Was I going to tell the truth?"

"No," I said after a pause. "I went to G.R., showed him one of the photographs the detective took from me, and threatened him. I made him call Liz and stop it, and I was with him when he did it."

"Oh my God," Liz said quietly and began to cry.

"So, let's summarize for now," Sebastian said. "We met with him for 3 weeks. First of all, I have no doubt that Richard Groner was an experienced and skilled seducer. He knew what he was doing and had undoubtedly done it before, probably many times. He was patient and cunning, skillfully pretending to be Liz's friend and protector. I didn't hear anything in her story to suggest that she intended to cheat on her husband from the beginning."

I started to interrupt, and he raised his hand. "This does not mean, Alan, that Liz is not to blame. Not at all. Treason is treason. It's just that if you two are going to move forward, you both better see things in their full context and understand them as fully as possible. He initially wanted sex with her, and for this, he became her friend and confidant in order to seduce her over time. Now, about your action. What you did is admirable, Alan. You were able to overcome your own pain to remember what was best for your children. You put them first. I'm not entirely sure your strategy was the best, but apparently, that was your feeling at the time, and it really worked. You both said the last few years of your marriage were happy. However, Alan, your plan restored a certain balance of power for you, which you may not have realized and do not fully realize now. Part of the pain in the situation you found yourself in, having been deceived, was that your wife betrayed you by hiding the most important part of her life from you. What you did allowed you to kind of gain the upper hand over Liz. Her secret was revealed, and on this, you built the basis of your secret. Now she was in the dark since you knew about her affair and she did not know that you were in the know."

I nodded. I already knew this, although I had never seen it as clearly as Sebastian had just outlined. "I suggest that during the incredibly painful period of her affair and its aftermath, it was this strength, this secret knowledge, that was part of what kept you from falling apart." He leaned forward a little again. "There is nothing wrong with that. This affair could have destroyed your family, but you found a way to save it. It was bold and insightful. But none of you told me about what happened 2 months ago. What's changed, Alan? Why did you reveal your secret to Liz after all these years?"

"I told him about the situation with Tom C. Bernardo, about the new weeks that Liz had been distant from me, and how worried I was that she was cheating on me again."

"I wouldn't tell tell her anything," I told him, "but one morning I complained to her about all her so-called late meetings, and we quarreled. She said something she simply had no right to say, and I just snapped. In an instant, 8 years of self-restraint, and it all disappeared in an instant."

"What did she say?" Sebastian asked quietly.

"'Have I ever given you a reason not to trust me?'"

There was a long silence in the room. I heard the air conditioner hum quietly. Liz then said, "Now I remember when I said them. A split second before you answered, I realized what I had said, and I felt ashamed. I couldn't stop. I dropped this bomb on her, G.R., and told her that if she did it again with Bernardo, our marriage would simply collapse. After that, I just got out of there." I shrugged. "That's the whole story."

On Tuesday afternoon, I looked up when I heard my office door open and was surprised to see Carly and Christina with their book bags. "Hey, Dad, do you have a minute for a couple of relatives?"

"Of course, my family." I kissed them both, and they plopped down on my office chairs. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" I asked joyfully. They almost never came to my office; they were not interested in my work. To my amazement, the girls exchanged glances, and then Christina stood up and closed the door.

"What's going on between you and Mom?" Carly asked me quietly.

"What do you mean?"

"It's happening," Carly rolled her eyes. "Be honest with us, Dad. We are no longer 9 years old. For almost 2 months now, both of you have barely spoken to each other. You're angry, but Mom is just sad. Several times at night, we heard her crying downstairs in the living room. So, yes, something is happening to you. Are you going to get a divorce, Dad?" Christina intervened. They both sat motionless, looking at me seriously.

"No, that's not true," I said almost immediately. It was a lie. I had no idea if we would get divorced. However, I instinctively knew that the correct answer would only increase their anxiety. "If we get divorced, they'll have to deal with it anyway. There's no reason to upset them right now."

"Then why this cold war, Dad? What's happening?" Carly asked.

She recently started studying 20th-century history, and frankly, I was impressed by this analogy. "Sometimes, sometimes marriages go through rough patches, Carly. I won't deny that this is a difficult period for my mother and me, but we are working to somehow get out of it, and we will continue to work until we figure everything out completely."

"But why are you so angry, and she cries all the time?"

"My dear girls, I cannot talk to you about the details of our problems. They're between your mom and me." I stood up and walked around my desk, squatting between the chairs and placing my hands on their shoulders. "I'm sorry that Mom and I don't get along, and I'm even more sorry that this is affecting you. You just have to believe in us. We both love you." I stopped. I was going to say, "And we'll both be there for you no matter what," but those words might have been a mistake. "And we are going to solve our issues, she and I. You'll just have to wait a little."

"Dad, just tell us what happened. We know that you love your mom. What could possibly have happened that was so serious to make you so angry?" Christina tried to insist on her point.

I smiled and slowly stood up. My knees were killing me. "Sorry, Chris. No details." I grabbed her hand and pulled her into a hug. "But I'll take you both across the street to Starbucks and buy you one of those disgusting giant mocha latte frappuccinos you love so much." I quickly saved the files I was working on, grabbed my briefcase, and cheerfully shepherded my girls out of the office, hoping I had calmed them down and wondering if there was any truth to what I was telling them.

Fifth week with Sebastian. "Liz, what do you want? What do you hope to achieve from our work together?"

"I want Allan back," she said simply. "I want our marriage back, the happy, loving marriage we had from the beginning, and then again for almost 8 years." She turned to me. "But I have absolutely no idea how to get back there, or how to contact Alan, or even understand what he wants from me."

"And you, Alan?" Sebastian looked at me intently.

"I, I don't know. You see, in my head, everything is easy and simple. I want to leave all this chaos in the past, make peace with Liz, and be happy again. But it's just not happening. Sebastian, and I don't know. I'm angry, I'm hurt, I'm betrayed, and I'm furious, and it's not getting any better."

Sebastian looked thoughtful for a minute. "If you were able to forgive her then, when the pain was so fresh and strong, then why not now? In the end, Alan, you got what you hoped for. As you yourself told me, she has proven many times that she loves and is devoted only to you. And you've never cheated on your husband since then, have you?"

"Liz?"

"Absolutely. I haven't even looked at anyone since Richard disappeared." Her voice sounded firm, and she looked straight at me.

"I believed her. I don't know," Sebastian sighed. "I've thought about it quite a lot, and everything you say is true. Only the truth is, because of this problem with Tom Bernardo, I had to relive it all again. What was buried in the past came back, and all this pain came back to haunt me. It's as if I was once tortured, and now I'm being forced to go through this torture again. I paused. I once read the memoirs of a guy who was actually tortured twice. He was a former CIA agent. The first time, the torture lasted 6 days, but he did not give up. He never revealed anything. He was trained to resist torture, and despite the incredible pain, he coped with it. But then, about 4 years later, he was recaptured and tortured a second time, and he lasted no more than 2 hours before giving away all the secrets. He later said that having already been through this hell once and knowing what to expect, he simply could not resist it a second time. I think the same thing is happening to me now. The second time with Bernardo, when I thought she was deceiving me again, cheating on me, I just broke down." God, how melodramatic that sounded, but at that moment, I really felt exactly these emotions.

"Does Liz need to compensate you for this somehow? Are you waiting for an apology that she hasn't given yet, or some kind of redemption? Does she deserve more punishment than she received?"

"No. I, I know that she is suffering. Sometimes I feel bad for her, and I want to console her, and then the rage comes. She did this to us. She cheated on me. Why the hell do I need to make her feel better?"

Liz sat next to me with dry eyes but looking very sad. Her head was bowed. She didn't even look at me.

"Okay, forget her for a minute, Alan. What about you?" Sebastian leaned forward. "If you imagine your life in a year, what will it look like?"

"It's easy. I see myself next to Liz and our girls. We are together and happy, as before, as always."

"And this is what you want? Is this the picture you want to bring to life?"

I nodded slowly.

"Then I'll ask you again. What's going to happen? What should Liz do? What do you need to do?"

I shook my head, feeling completely miserable. "I have no idea."

It's early Saturday morning, and another long shower. I got up and made coffee, but I didn't feel like having breakfast. Liz was still in bed. The girls will sleep for a few more hours. This morning, I didn't feel angry or angry, just sad. And then, streams of water gently fell on me and cleared my mind of unnecessary thoughts. Suddenly, I felt a draft as the shower door opened and closed behind me. I turned to see Liz naked, with tears running down her face, reaching towards me.

"Liz?"

"No!"

"Alan!" I extended my arms to keep her away, but she pushed them away with force and hugged me, pressing herself tightly to my body. Minutes passed, but she did not let me go. Because of her sobs, for a long time, I could not understand the words that she repeated in my ear. "Bring me back, please bring me back," Liz whispered, gasping for air, crying and desperately holding on to me like a drowning swimmer clinging to a piece of floating wood. Her convulsive trembling was transmitted to me, and without thinking, I plunged both of us under the hot water. While hugging her, I slowly stroked her back with my hands, muttering shhh into her hair. Time seemed to stand still as we slowly swayed together. Her trembling and sobs gradually died down, and her whispers died down. I held her and stroked her wet body, feeling how she warmed up. Finally, when she calmed down, I moved away from her and smiled, seeing her looking at me uncertainly. My inner dam broke at that moment, and I kissed her. The passion with which she responded made me gasp, and our bodies connected under the gushing streams of hot water. When we broke the hug, she burst into tears again, hugging me tighter than she ever had in my life. Words were unnecessary. Turning off the water with one jerk, I pulled us both out of the shower and dried off while Liz was still clinging to me. I then picked her up and carried her back to bed, collapsing next to her. Finally, after a long break, we had sex. For some time, we could not move. When our breathing became even again, I turned on my side, pulling her with me so I could stay inside her. We smiled at each other, and I kissed her gently on the lips, holding her close to me. Liz wanted to say something, but I stopped her by placing my finger on her lips. "Tonight," I said, "and so every day, as long as we can cope with it." She looked at me for a moment, then nodded eagerly with a big smile on her face, and we kissed again. A few minutes later, we fell asleep in each other's arms.

"Sebastian," I said to his answering machine, "this is Alan Hendrick. Liz and I are going to cancel our appointments this week. I'm sure we want to see you again, but I don't know when. If you don't mind, I'll call you when we're ready to meet. Thank you."

The previous night had been wild. After a quick pizza dinner, Carly and Christina went to the movies, and Liz and I silently rushed to the bedroom. We quickly tore each other's clothes off and started kissing. Afterwards, we had passionate sex several times. It was the hottest night since our honeymoon. Liz passed out almost immediately. I went to shower and didn't fall asleep until the girls got home. Oddly enough, that's exactly how everything worked out. The next night was just as bright, although quieter, as the girls slept in their bedrooms. The next night, Liz started teasing me over dinner, lifting her leg and rubbing it against my thigh. She calmly asked the girls about their lives, while at the same time looking at me with a sly expression on her face. That night, in our room, we had the longest sex of our marriage. For the next 11 days, we had sex at least once a day, only taking a break when Liz got her period. One of these days, lying in my arms after hot lovemaking, Liz looked at me and asked, "Baby, do we still need to talk?"

"Well, about this, about my novel?"

I smiled and shook my head. "Sebastian is great, but I don't feel the need for these meetings anymore."

"This sounds like what I need, Liz. Bringing our marriage back this way is beyond words." She smiled and nodded, then kissed my chest and snuggled close to me, closing her eyes.

One Saturday, I picked up Christina and a couple of her friends at the mall. Carly already had her license and went somewhere with her current boyfriend, Andy. After we dropped off all of Christina's friends and headed home, she said, "It seems like you and your mom have sorted everything out."

"You think so?"

She rolled her eyes. "Are you joking? You touch each other all the time or give each other affectionate glances throughout dinner. Heck, get a motel room." She laughed, and I laughed with her and said, "Yes, I think everything has changed for the better. Marriage works, crease sometimes times are tough, and it's not easy to overcome, but it looks like my mom and I are almost there."

With sarcastic exaggeration, she said, "Thank you for the life lesson, teacher. I will definitely write this phrase down in my book of wise sayings." Then she laughed again, and I saw that she felt better.

When we visited Sebastian for the last time, he was surprised and impressed. This was about 6 weeks later. "It looks like everything is definitely going well. Want to tell me about it?"

I just smiled. Liz blushed a little and said, "We have sex a lot, almost every day for several weeks. God, it's like we're back on our honeymoon. Allan, this is so cool." With love and joy, it looks like the obsession has subsided, and we are just enjoying each other. Sebastian turned to me and said, "Now I see changes in both of you. Liz is practically beaming, and you just look more relaxed. In fact, you even looked younger, as if a heavy weight had been lifted from your shoulders."

I shrugged. "Last time we met, you asked me what needed to happen to improve the relationship between me and Liz. I had no idea then. It turns out it had nothing to do with words. On the contrary, there were too many words, words, thoughts, but there was almost no sex."

"Sorry, Sebastian," he smiled. "I've heard this word before." Then he said, "So, everything is all right? No need to go back to what we were doing?"

Liz and I looked at each other. She shook her head and said, "I don't think so. It feels like, like we finally got along and are comfortable with each other." She took my hand, and I shook it gently.

"We know we can always come to you," I said, "but it seems like we just don't need it right now."

At the door, he shook my hand firmly and kissed Liz on the cheek. "Good luck to you both," he said. "I have a good feeling about you."

"Thank you," I said. "I think I do too."

Subscribe to our channel so that your second chaff doesn't cheat on you and go ahead and listen to the next story because this story is nothing compared to the next one. If you're under 18, don't even think about listening to the next one.