Contract Over: You're Free to Go
To celebrate our third wedding anniversary, I get us a dinner reservation and prepare a gift for her, complete with a handwritten love letter.
But my wife, Teresa Sloan, doesn't show up.
Meanwhile, while attending the welcome-back party for her first love, Carlton Unger, she walks around on his arm with a radiant smile on her face.
Someone asks her who I am. She replies, "No one worth mentioning."
From that day onward, I stop waiting around for her.
Sometime later, she comes crying to me, saying, "I love you, Silas."
I tell her, "It's too late."