“It’s from the heart foundation. They thanked us for sixty two thousand dollars.”

Bob stirred his coffee but did not pick up the letter. “Must be a mistake.”

I pulled out the photo and laid it on the table. “Who is the woman in the green dress?”

He glanced at it and set his spoon down. “That’s Carol. She helps run the foundation.”

“Her name is right next to yours on their donor list. Why would they list her instead of me?”

Bob looked at his hands. “I did not think you would ever see that.”

I asked the question I had been holding. “How long have you been giving them money from an account I never knew about?”

He was quiet for a minute. The clock ticked on the wall. “Five years,” he said. “I opened the account when I met her.”

I thought about all the late nights. All the times he said it was just work. “Is she the reason you kept going back?”

Bob nodded once. “It started as something small. Then it got bigger than I planned.”

I asked if the kids knew anything. He said no. I asked if he had ever thought about telling me. He said he did not know how.

“Are you going to keep seeing her?” I asked.

Bob looked at the letter on the table. “I do not know what I am going to do.”

I left the letter where it was and went upstairs. I packed a small bag and put it by the door. Bob stayed in the kitchen for a long time.

That afternoon he said he would go stay with his brother for a few days. I did not argue. He took his suitcase and left around four.

I have not called the kids yet. I have not told anyone what happened. The letter is still on the table where I left it. I keep wondering what I am supposed to do next.

The house felt empty in a way it never had before, even when the kids moved out. I walked over to the sink and ran some water, just to hear something besides my own thoughts. The letter sat there, the corner slightly curled from where my hand had gripped it too tight.

I kept going over the way his shoulders slumped when I showed him the photo. “She is just a friend,” he had told me once before, but that was years ago now. “The gala is important for business.” Those words sounded different in my head this time.

The clock in the hallway struck the half hour and it made me jump a little. Bob always said he liked that sound because it reminded him of his parents’ house. I wondered if Carol knew that about him too.

My hands were still cold from the morning air when I had opened the door for him to leave. He paused on the step. “I am sorry,” he said. That was all.