But then I remember something I cannot forget. “There was underwear in your wardrobe. Now it’s gone.” “What?” “You bought lacy underwear for someone else. I found it. It wasn’t my size.” For a moment I can’t tell whether he is angry or amused by what I have said. “I bought underwear for you. It was the wrong size, yes. So I took it back. If you go upstairs right now you’ll find the same bag containing what I thought I’d picked up the first time, hidden in the same place. Or at least it was supposed to be hidden until Christmas. You didn’t really think I was having an affair, did you?” I start
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the crying is so real
