But there’s no such thing as free. There are only different and more horrible ways to be enslaved.

It's best to let her go," he says. No, no, that's wrong. It's never right to give up on someone.

I wanted to be rid of him," he says. He raises my chin with his thumb. "But not if it meant being rid of you. I climbed in beside you, and you put your head in my lap. You can't think I would have left you like that." "Look what it got you," I say. "Tea in bed and you here in front of me," he says. "It was a terrible decision, and I confess I'd make it again.

Times like this, when she slips her hand into mine and holds on tight, and our husband becomes just a shadow in the doorway.

It was a terrible decision, and I confess I'd make it again.

I don't know if it was love or an illusion. I don't know if there's ever a way to be certain.

I wanted so badly to tell him, but something about that entire night seemed so beautiful, so bizarre, that I didn't trust it with my secrets.