It was not out of pity that I kissed my husband on his lips that day, as if he were my lover. It was not out of some sense of duty or obligation or some misguided sense of guilt that I was leaving him. No, it was because at that moment, I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to feel his warmth against mine. I wanted us to be close. It was a kiss that began with tenderness although grew quickly with a passion I had not anticipated. Fervor I had not expected rolled through me, as, for the first time in all these months, at this precise hour, I saw in him everything he had hoped I would.
