Chapter 1

In the third year of our marriage, my wife, Claire, started keeping a young, handsome college student.

His name was Ryan. He was tall, good-looking, and exactly Claire’s type.

She kept him around for over six months—longer than any of the others.

My friends warned me to be careful. They said Claire seemed genuinely attached to Ryan.

The first time I met him was on my birthday.

That morning, I’d woken up with a nosebleed that wouldn’t stop. At the hospital, the doctor told me I probably wouldn’t live past spring next year.

I nodded calmly and said, “That’s fine.”

I wasn’t afraid of dying—I just didn’t want it to hurt.

There was an expensive medication that could ease the pain, but I didn’t have enough money to afford it.

So, I went to Claire’s office to ask for help.

That’s where I ran into Ryan. He had just graduated and was working as Claire’s assistant.

Claire was in a meeting, so I sat in the lobby to wait.

Ryan kept glancing at me, then leaned over to whisper to his coworkers, “So, that’s the husband? He looks awful—so skinny and sickly, like he’s on his deathbed.”

He laughed and added, “People say I look like him, but I don’t see it. I’m way better looking.”

I caught my reflection in the glossy glass wall. Messy hair, a puffy coat that made me look even frailer.

He wasn’t wrong. I wasn’t much to look at—just a man waiting to die.

A coworker nudged him and whispered, “Don’t underestimate him. If he cleaned up, you wouldn’t even compare. And don’t forget, Claire loves him. If you piss him off, she’ll destroy you.”