Chapter 1Low-Maintenance Wife

Three years into my affair, my marriage was running smoother than it ever had.

When I wasn't home, my wife never checked in on me.

I could leave my phone on the kitchen counter, and she wouldn't glance at it.

If I came in late, she even left the porch light on.

My friends were genuinely envious.

"Man, your wife is so low-maintenance."

I thought so too.

She knew about the woman on the side.

I knew that she knew.

Neither of us ever said a word about it.

I honestly believed this was the most comfortable equilibrium a mature marriage could reach.

Until one morning, when she slid a divorce agreement right beneath my coffee mug.

"The house and custody go to you. I'm walking away with nothing."

I couldn't help the smirk that crept onto my face.

"Because of her?"

Lily shook her head.

"This has nothing to do with her."

"It's just that recently, I met someone I really like too."

In that split second, the coffee in my hand turned to lead.

* * *

My very first reaction wasn't anger.

It was relief. A bizarre, weightless feeling of finally no longer being indebted to her.

For three years, Lily had never picked a fight with me. But sometimes, just having her ladle a bowl of soup for me made my skin prickle with guilt.

I would have to take it, swallow a few sips, and scramble for some compliment to pay her.

Otherwise, I looked like an absolute bastard.

Now, though, the playing field was level. Neither of us was clean. Neither of us had to keep up the saintly act.

I moved the coffee mug aside, slid the papers out, and before even flipping through them, I chuckled.

"You should've told me sooner."

Lily was at the island, pressing a fresh label onto Henry's water bottle.

The old label had curled at the edges from too many runs through the dishwasher. She peeled it off and smoothed down a crisp new one.

I went on, "I'm not mocking you. We've been married eleven years. We know each other inside out. Honestly, I'm glad you're being straight with me. There were plenty of things we couldn't say before. Now we can actually talk."

She slipped the bottle into the side pocket of his backpack.

"What do you want to talk about?"

Her calm made me relax even more.

At least she wasn't crying, and she wasn't pointing a finger in my face to drag up old dirt.

I leaned in a little closer.

"At our age, finding someone you actually connect with isn't easy. I get it. And you get me. There's no reason to blow up our home over this."

By the time the words left my mouth, I had already convinced myself this wasn't a bad thing.

When I was the only one with someone outside, I carried a quiet deficit toward this household.

Now that we both had our own outlets, we could still come home, co-parent our son, share peaceful dinners. Wouldn't that be far fairer?

Lily finally set the backpack down.

"Read the agreement first."

"What's there to read? I heard what you said, and I didn't lose my temper. My point is, since we're both—"

"I know what your point is," she cut in. "I just don't want to live like this anymore. Look it over, see what needs adjusting, and then we'll talk."

She turned the document to the final page. Her signature was already inked neatly on the line.

Next to it was today's date.

That was when I noticed she had even left a pen beside the stack.

This wasn't a sudden whim.

From the moment I woke up, brushed my teeth, and sat down at the table, I had assumed today was identical to every other ordinary morning.

She, however, had known all along what was supposed to happen the second I finished this cup of coffee.

An uneasy itch began creeping up my throat.

Not because of the other man.

At least, not yet.

"What about our son?"

"Henry stays with you."

"I see that on the paper. What I'm asking is, have you thought about how you're going to break it to him? You just write down 'stays with the father' and figure your job is done?"

Lily slid another sheet across the marble.

"I'll wire fixed child support on the first of every month. Any major medical or extracurricular expenses, we split after discussing. Visitation hours are outlined right there. You can check."

I didn't touch it.

Those clean, clinical arrangements grated on my nerves.

We were talking about our family, yet she had dismantled every thread of our shared life into discrete, itemized line items.

I pulled out my phone, intending to text my assistant to push back my morning meetings.

Right then, a banner popped up from Sabrina.

You awake yet? Picked up breakfast for you. Don't go drinking coffee on an empty stomach again.

Instinctively, I flipped my phone face down.

Lily saw it.

She didn't utter a word.

My face, however, flared hot.

Here I was, lecturing her on mutual understanding, yet I didn't even have the nerve to let her see a simple morning text.