At 60, I just wanted one hot, passionate night with a younger man… but when he bit my neck, I passed out. When I opened my eyes in the hospital, my husband was already sitting beside me, staring at the dark marks on my neck

wearing makeup again.

I bought a new dress.

A new perfume.

And most dangerously of all, I started waiting for his messages.

One night Eric wrote:

“I want to see you. Alone.”

I knew exactly what he meant.

I put down my phone.

Robert was sitting just a few feet away from me.

 

I looked at his gray hair, his tired face, the hands I had held for almost four decades.

And I thought:

No. I’m not going to do this.

That night, I tried one last time.

I moved closer to Robert in bed.

I rested my head against his chest.

I kissed him.

He gently pulled away.

“Linda, please. I’m really tired tonight.”

 

Something inside me broke.

Two days later, I was standing inside a hotel elevator.

I was wearing a dark dress.

Underneath it was the same red lingerie my husband