It had only been a few days since that appointment at Jake’s clinic, but the rush still hadn’t faded. I thought the feeling would cool off, that I’d slip back into my good, controlled self. But before it could, another spark ignited. I was in the office restroom, smoothing down my pencil skirt in the mirror, giving myself one last check. At 38, eight years married, I still took pride in looking sharp, hair in a sleek bun,...

Lay has always been the perfect wife—at least, that's what everyone thinks. To the outside world, she's poised, elegant, with her long dark hair cascading down her back, her warm smile lighting up any room, and those deep brown eyes that seem to hold quiet secrets. We've been married for eight years now, and on the surface, everything looks idyllic. We have a comfortable home in the suburbs, steady jobs, and weekends fill...