There is a certain level of pain a woman must be in to take her husband’s phone from its charger and carry it into the bathroom at one a.m.

There's another level, unknown to most women, to take that phone downstairs, hands shaking, and call the other woman.

She answered as I imagine they all do—bubbly, concerned, warm. So sweet, so nice, so happy to hear from him. My hands trembled, but my voice didn’t. I told her it wasn’t her darling man on the line. It was his wife. I’d seen the texts. And since my husband wouldn’t tell her, I would.

Stay away.