At 30,000 feet, I caught my husband with his secretary—but by the time we landed, he had lost everything.

front of that photo for a long time.

Then I took it out of the frame.

Not angrily.

Not dramatically.

Just finished.

I replaced it with a black-and-white photo of the skyline at sunrise.

A beginning, not a performance.

Over the following weeks, I rebuilt the space piece by piece. New sheets. New locks. New passwords. New artwork. I donated his clothes. I turned continue reading …