I watched it happen on her face, and I felt none of the things a husband is supposed to feel.

I did not feel guilty for the secret I had kept from her — though I had kept it, for thirteen years, the way I kept all my most important accounts, off the books and out of the light.

I did not feel afraid of what she would do, though I already knew it would be ruinous.

What I felt, watching Delphine’s world come apart in the back of that speeding car, was a strange and belated clarity about what our marriage had actually been.

She was not reacting like a wife who has learned her husband has hidden children.