I thought he was just tired. I thought the stress of his job was getting to him. I tried to make things easier for him. I kept the house quiet. I clipped coupons to save money.

And every Friday, I kept the salt shaker clean, wiped down the table, and waited for him to come home from “fixing the sink.”

That chipped ceramic salt shaker was a silly thing. I bought it at a Toledo thrift store for fifty cents when we first got married. It had a tiny chip on the rim, but I loved it anyway. To me, it represented our simple, comfortable life.

Now, sitting at the kitchen table, that salt shaker looked like a joke.

On Friday morning, I decided I couldn’t ignore Lilly’s comment. I waited until Mark left for work. Then, at 6 PM, I told our neighbor Mrs. Gable that I had to run some errands and asked if she could watch Lilly for an hour.

I got into my old Chevrolet and drove toward Karen’s neighborhood. The drive felt longer than usual. My hands were shaking so badly on the steering wheel that I had to grip it until my knuckles were white.

When I turned onto Oak Street, my eyes immediately searched for Mark’s blue Buick LeSabre. It wasn’t in Karen’s driveway.

For a brief second, I felt a rush of relief. I thought Lilly had made a mistake. I almost turned the car around to go home.

But then I noticed the garage door. It was completely shut. Karen never parked her car in the garage. She used it for storage.

I parked my car a block away, near the local Methodist church. I walked back to Karen’s house on foot, my boots squelching in the wet grass of her side yard.

I walked around to the back of the house. The kitchen light was on, casting a bright yellow square onto the damp patio.

I took a deep breath and looked through the kitchen window.

They weren’t working on any plumbing. There was no toolbox in sight.

Instead, there was a bottle of expensive white wine on the counter. Mark and Karen were sitting at her small kitchen table. He was holding her hand, laughing at something she said. It was a genuine, happy laugh. I hadn’t seen him laugh like that in years.

Then, he leaned over and kissed her.

My body went completely rigid. I felt a physical sickness rise in my throat. I wanted to scream, to kick the door down, to break the glass. But something colder and calmer took over.

I took my phone out of my pocket. My fingers were trembling, but I managed to unlock the camera.

I took 6 clear photos. The flash was off, so they didn’t see me. I captured everything. The wine, the holding of hands, the kiss.

I walked back to my car in silence. The drive home was a blur. I don’t even remember the route I took. My brain was operating on pure survival mode.

When I got home, I picked up Lilly from Mrs. Gable’s house. I made her dinner, tucked her into bed, and read her a story. My voice sounded completely normal to her. I don’t know how I managed that.