People always ask what it actually feels like.
The moment you realize your marriage is over.
For me, it felt like a suitcase zipper.
I want to back up first, though.
The zipper only makes sense if you understand what led to it.
Six months of quiet, deliberate work.
Work that had nothing to do with love.
And everything to do with survival.
My name is Meredith.
My husband, Nathaniel Vance, and I had been married eleven years by the night this story actually happens.
I run the finance side of a mid-sized logistics company.
One we’d technically built together.
Though Nathaniel preferred the word “led” whenever investors were in the room.
Six months before that suitcase zipper, I found a receipt in his coat pocket.
A cologne I didn’t recognize.
