MARIE

When I caught Leo, my boyfriend of six years, cheating on me, I didn't cry. I didn't wail or scream like most women would. I wasn't stupid. Deep down, I had been picking up on the subtle clues for months.

It started with those flat, one-word replies whenever I asked him how his day at the clinic went. Then came the moment he forgot my twenty-sixth birthday—even though I always remembered his and went all out every single year to make each one more memorable than the last.

Whenever I tried to initiate sex, he’d roll over and claim he was just too exhausted from work.

At first, I...