That Pulsing Morning on the Couch: My First Time Shattering Everything
I remember the doorbell. Heart skipped. Living room light filtered through blinds. Opened the door. There she stood, Jenny, young brunette in tight white dress. Buttons strained. Eyes fierce. Shoved phone at me. Photo of my wife Valérie, kissing some blond guy outside our house. “That’s your wife?” Her voice sharp. I nodded, pulse racing….