Susan lowered her head.
“Six years.”
Six years.
My husband had been sleeping with my best friend while I welcomed her into our home, cooked her dinner, and treated her like family.
“Did he love you?” I asked.
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Susan began crying.
“Yes. He even promised to leave you once.”
I felt my entire world collapse.
“And after Robert died, you held me while I cried for him?”
She nodded.
“You watched me grieve for a man you were secretly involved with?”
“I’m so sorry.”
I stood up.
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“Why are you telling me now?”
Susan hesitated.
“Because I’m getting married next month. My fiancé knows everything, and he told me I needed to confess before our wedding.”
I couldn’t believe it.
She wasn’t confessing because she cared about my pain.
She was confessing because she wanted to begin her new marriage without guilt.
