And I had left it there, open and empty, on the vanity, and come downstairs to greet my husband.

He wrapped his arms around me and kissed the top of my head, and that was when I smelled it.

Coconut and vanilla.

The exact perfume the young woman at the bakery had been wearing, here, now, on my husband’s collar, in my front hall.

“How was your day?” he asked me, warm as anything.

And I made a decision in that moment that I have never regretted, though it cost me two of the hardest weeks of my life.

I did not accuse him.