The man I had an affair with was the marriage counselor my husband paid a fortune to bring us together-2

The Deleted Anniversary
A vibration startled my palm. I looked down. My phone screen lit up, starkly displaying: "Anniversary Reminder: 7 years with David". Seven years. My mind catapulted back to a sun-drenched afternoon seven years prior: his palms slick with sweat, the ring nearly lost to a fountain, us fumbling, laughing like fools. And now…I lifted my gaze to the sliver of cold light beneath the study door.
What filled his time there? Work? Or… simply avoiding me? An invisible fist clenched my heart, icy and sharp. Remembering only measured the chasm between us. My trembling finger hovered, then pressed decisively: "Delete". The screen darkened, mirroring my hollowed heart.

The Dining Table Standoff
A rare weekend without overtime. I prepared dinner meticulously: his favorite linen cloth, slow-roasted ribs, simmered broth, each plate arranged with care. He sat opposite, eyes on his plate, blind to the effort. Knife and fork clattered against China as he dissected the ribs. The air thickened, heavy as lead.

I had to pierce the suffocating quiet. "Nice weather today. Sunny," I ventured cautiously. "Hmm." He didn't look up, focused on his food. Unwilling to surrender, I tried again: "That article I mentioned? The editor said the response was strong today…""Good." He cut me off, his tone flat, detached, carving another piece of meat. Chewing became the soundtrack. I stared at my cooling broccoli, spearing it absently, a stone of despair in my gut. How had shared meals become torture?