And now he has his hands on my wife.
Not ex-wife.
Wife.
The legal fact still matters, and it matters more because she wants it not to.
The rage that moves through me is so pure and complete it almost feels clean, because now I know:
This didn’t happen recently, it couldn’t have. Zara doesn’t become that woman overnight. She doesn’t go from sexless and pathetically in love with me, to this sultry, slutty plaything of Locke’s in just a few weeks.
No. This has been happening longer than I knew. Quietly, behind my back. In the spaces where I was busy keeping our lives from collapsing.
My stomach twists, because suddenly I can see it. The little moments. The things I dismissed.
The way Cobra seemed oddly comfortable walking away from doing business with my club. The way Zara suddenly
