I thought my husband and I would last forever.Mark and I were married for seven years, and from the outside, we looked perfect.I was a 34-year-old freelance designer, and our daughter, Sophie, was our long-awaited miracle.Life finally felt whole—until the night of his promotion party.That night marked the beginning of the end of our so-called perfect life. At the celebration, Sophie tugged my sleeve and pointed at a woman.“Look, Mommy! That’s the lady with the worms!” she said loudly.Confused, I asked what she meant.
“At her house. I saw them on her bed. Daddy said not to tell you—you’d be upset.”She was pointing at Tina, Mark’s coworker—the same one I’d always been suspicious of.Suddenly, everything I’d ignored came rushing back in full force.
