It feels good to be back home. I follow Scott as he lays our bags down on the bedroom floor. The lights are off and the bed is made. It looks inviting; I’m so tired from crying, physically and emotionally exhausted. I slide my shoes off and pulled the bedspread back. I feel Scott approach me from behind.

“Do you need help with your zipper?” he asks. “Please,” I say.

His fingers tips touched the back of my neck as he slowly glides the zipper down my body. He places his hands on my bare shoulders and then lowers my dress off me until it falls to the floor. I...