Go out walking the dog together one Sunday. Early spring; sun warm, trees bare. Talk about something, nothing.
Feel sure, quite suddenly; he’s lying to you.
Hear him laugh at first, then protest his innocence, but still know. Like a bloodhound catching the faintest trace of a scent, you know there is something to know.
Feel more certain with every word he says. Remind him you have heard his denials & rebuttals before. There were lies then, too & you have tried so hard to forgive & forget. Despite never really mastering either of these, become aware of the huge distance you’re about to fall back down. Brace.
Walk ahead of him now; burn with fury and adrenaline. Feel angry at yourself, more than him, for allowing yourself the luxury of denial. Let him catch up and ask a question; throw back your answer like a fist, try to hurt him as much as you know how.
Think, Is it another woman? Is it about money, or work?
Beg him to tell you. Try to make him see that to mislead you now will tangle your brain & heart beyond repair. Walk away again when he says, ‘but I swear…’
In the car, tell him it is over, and as you say it, realise it is true. You won’t really leave tonight, or tomorrow, or even this month, but this afternoon will always be the turning point when you look back. The moment you really saw him.
Wonder how you knew he was lying, from nowhere, from the trees and the sky.