It was her birthday, and she dressed with care, wearing the dress he said suited her above all other and painting her face with subtle skill.
The meal was exquisitely prepared and faultlessly served. He smiled at her and she felt herself glow with joy. Maybe tonight, for her birthday he might just stay at home.
But he left, and the light went out of the celebration.
“You knew what he was when you married him,” her mother hissed.
She nodded, mute in her misery.
Even then she was managing until she found the discarded feminine underwear.
In her bed…