Three Days in June

by Anne Tyler

Because from that time on, Max behaved as if nothing whatsoever had happened. For the following days and weeks and months it was Everything’s fine! and What could possibly be wrong? He was his usual good-natured self. He was blithely, blandly cheerful. Except… Except he didn’t think I hung the moon anymore.

Why had I, who truly loved my husband—at least in the on-again-off-again, maybe/maybe-not, semi-happy way of just about any married woman—broken apart my whole world for a man I never really knew? But maybe that was just it: I hadn’t known him. There are times when that can be the strongest draw of all.