I pointed toward the bedroom.
“You brought him upstairs.”
“Daniel—”
“You handed me a pillow.”
Her face changed slightly.
“You asked whether I wanted to watch.”
“Stop.”
“He called me pathetic.”
“Stop.”
“You laughed.”
“Stop!”
Her voice cracked.
It was the first real emotion I had heard from her all night.
I stopped.
Lauren pressed both hands against her forehead.
For a moment she looked almost like the woman I had married.
Tired.
Scared.
Human.
Then she said something that destroyed whatever sympathy had begun to form.
“You embarrassed me in front of Ryan.”
I laughed.
I couldn't help it.
Not loudly.
One short sound.
Lauren stared at me.
“What?”
“That's what you're worried about?”
“No.”
“It was the first thing you said.”
“I’m upset.”
“You brought the man you're having an affair with into our bedroom and you're upset that my divorce paperwork embarrassed you.”
She turned away.
“You don't understand.”
“Then explain.”
Silence.
“Explain it.”
She sat on the edge of the bed.
Her confidence had completely disappeared.
For almost a minute, she said nothing.
Then:
“I was angry at you.”
“For what?”
“For making me feel invisible.”
That was not what I expected.
I leaned against the doorframe.
Lauren looked down.
“You stopped seeing me years ago.”
“I was here.”
“That isn't the same thing.”
No.
It wasn't.
I knew that.
“You worked. You cooked. You paid bills. You fixed things. You treated our marriage like maintenance.”
I wanted to argue.
Some of it was true.
So I didn't.
“And Ryan?”
“He made me feel wanted.”
“For how long?”
She didn't answer.
“Lauren.”
“Eight months.”
Eight.
The number hurt more than I expected.
“How long have you been sleeping together?”
She looked at the floor.
“Five months.”
I closed my eyes.
Five months.
Every late dinner.
Every work event.
Every accusation that I was paranoid.
Every denial.
“Why tonight?”
Lauren wiped under one eye.
Not crying yet.
“Ryan kept saying you wouldn't do anything.”
I stared at her.
“He said you were weak?”
She nodded.
“And you wanted to prove him right.”
No response.
That was answer enough.
The cruelty suddenly made sense.
This wasn't only about sex.
Ryan had turned our marriage into a competition.
And Lauren had participated because humiliating me made her feel powerful.
“What did you think would happen?”
“I don't know.”
“Yes, you do.”
“I thought you'd finally react.”
“How?”
“Get angry.”
“And then?”
“I don't know.”
“Hit him?”
“No.”
“Beg you?”
She said nothing.