The Debt of Love and the Void of Hatred

Summary

The new assistant was suffering from cramps. My aloof, aristocratic husband made her a special ginger-honey tea, and I immediately asked for a divorce.

“Over a cup of tea?” Arthur Trainor looked at me, incredulous.

“Yes.”

“Fine,” he sneered, his jaw tight. “Just don’t come crying back to me.”

Arthur and I were each other’s first love. We got together in high school; he was my entire world, the landscape of my youth.

So he was certain I could never leave him.

But the truth was, the tea was just the final straw. The evidence of his fading love was hidden in every corner of our lives.