She was a therapist.
That was the answer to one question.
But there are a few others left.
Why did Ashton go to therapy without telling me?
Why did he consult with anyone about our marriage?
And why did he have unsigned divorce papers and a packed suitcase?
I spread everything out on the table in the living room and waited for him to return.
A little after six, I heard Ashton’s keys clatter against the kitchen counter.
“Sutton?”
“I’m in the living room.”
He appeared in the doorway.
I could make out the shape of his face, although his facial features remained blurred.
Then he noticed the suitcase.
He stopped
“Where did you find this?”
“Under our bed.”
His shoulders stiffened.
I picked up the envelope.
“Ashton, is there something you want to tell me?”
He slowly sat down in the chair across from me.
“Sutton…”
“Please don’t lie.”
