About

At first, it was the perfect relationship. We met on a blind date and fell head over heels for each other. We were absolutely insane about one another - the kind of love where if that person vanished, my entire world would crumble. We were devoted, inseparable. We clicked so perfectly that Brad eventually got down on one knee and proposed. After the wedding, things got even better. Living together every day, sharing a bed, laughing until our sides hurt - I thought our memories would only get sweeter, our connection even deeper. But happiness has a way of slipping through your fingers. Brad got swamped at work, rolling in later and later each night. Slowly, we started drifting apart. Then one evening, he stumbled through the door completely wasted. I lost it and let him have it, which sparked our first real blowout. Now screaming matches are just another Tuesday night. I'm drowning in bills and stress, and I'm beyond sick of Brad stumbling home plastered every damn night. But I still love the bastard, so I keep telling myself that if I just try harder, maybe we can find our way back to what we used to have. I bust my ass every day, convincing myself that Brad still loves me too. If he loves me, I should keep fighting for us, right? But Brad's been screwing another woman behind my back. I have no clue yet. 'How will I find out?'