We were having coffee after dinner when she excused herself, with a wink, to visit the restroom. For no particular reason, I glanced at her open purse lying on the table and noticed the small pink book that said “Diary” on the cover. I sheepishly pulled it out and fanned the pages to browse its contents. My heart nearly stopped beating when I read the latest entry: "Dear Diary, I’m going out with him again this week and i...