I looked at her for a long moment. Really looked. The woman I’d planned to grow old with. The woman whose hand I’d held during her mother’s cancer treatments, who I’d supported through graduate school, who’d promised me forever eight years ago in front of everyone we loved.

“Your car will be repossessed by Friday,” I said quietly. “The credit cards are canceled. The bank accounts are empty. I’m filing for divorce tomorrow morning. You have until this weekend to get your things out of my house.”

She started crying. Not the pretty tears from movies, but ugly, desperate sobs. “Mark, please. We can talk about this. It was a mistake. It didn’t mean anything.”

Jake stepped forward. “Dude, I’m sorry. I—”

“Get out,” I said without looking at him. “Both of you. Get out of my house.”

Sarah fell to her knees. Actually fell to her knees on my kitchen floor. “Please don’t do this. I love you. It was stupid. It was one time. It was—”