The paper bag from Arbetter’s sat open on the table, its greasy steam carrying the faint spice of chili and onions, a Miami staple since ’59. It was the kind of unpretentious comfort we’d grabbed a thousand times as a family, now tainted by Emily’s betrayal. A minute earlier, a knock at the bedroom door from Melissa had jolted me from my worst nightmare. “Got lunch!” she announced, her voice bright, oblivious to the horro...

The cursor hovered over the play button, my hand frozen mid-air. One flick of my finger, and everything I feared would come pouring out. My phone sat dark on the desk. Not a word from Chris since he dropped the bomb. His intended mercy, a gesture of friendship, had soured into a curse, hurling me off a cliff. Melissa’s voice drifted through the wall, humming “I Knew You Were Trouble,” the same Taylor Swift song from the c...

It wasn’t even a real office, just a cheap IKEA desk wedged into the corner of the so-called master bedroom in a cramped apartment I never planned to stay in long. It never felt like home, and wasn’t supposed to. It was a stopover, a holding cell, the kind of temporary arrangement that felt beneath a fifty-year-old man coming off twenty-five years of marriage. No fights. No cheating. Nothing thrown or broken. Just a slow,...