He called every night.
At least, I thought he did.
David continued.
“Ruth was here visiting her sister. She and Michael met in this restaurant.”
I looked around the courtyard.
The old stone walls.
The flowering vines.
The harbor visible through an archway.
This was where my husband had met another man’s wife.
“They saw each other again?” I asked.
“Several times.”
“Here?”
“Here. London. Paris. Once in Boston.”
Boston.
I remembered Boston.
Michael came home with a red scarf and said he bought it during a layover because he missed me.
I wore it for 20 years.
I pressed both hands against my mouth.
David looked away.
“Did they love each other?”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t lie to me again.”
His eyes returned to mine.
“Yes.”
The answer broke something.
Not loudly.
There was no dramatic crack.
Just a quiet collapse inside a life I thought had already ended.
Michael had died beside me.
Cancer took him slowly.
I fed him soup when he could no longer hold a spoon.
I washed his hair.
Changed his sheets.
Slept in a chair beside his hospice bed.
On his final morning, he squeezed my hand and said, “You were the best part of my life.”
I believed him.
Maybe I still did.
That was the cruelest part.
“Why did it end?” I asked.
“Ruth said they chose their families.”
“How noble.”
David flinched.
“They ended the affair 21 years ago.”
“But kept writing?”
“For a while. The last letters were apologies.”
“To each other?”
“Mostly.”
I looked at the envelope again.
“And that?”
“Michael wrote it to you.”
“Why didn’t he give it to me?”
“I think he gave it to Ruth because he was afraid.”
“Afraid of me?”
“Afraid of losing you.”
I laughed bitterly.
“He risked losing me for 11 years.”
“I know.”
“No, David. You know what your wife did. You do not know what my husband did to me.”
He accepted that without defending himself.
It made my anger harder to hold in one shape.
“Did Ruth know Michael died?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“She kept track of your family online.”
A chill moved through me.
“Is that how you recognized me?”
David nodded.
“There were photographs in the box. One of you and Michael at your daughter’s wedding. Another from an anniversary dinner.”
I stood.
“You saw me wandering around Valletta with my map upside down, and you knew exactly who I was.”
