At 60, I just wanted one hot, passionate night with a younger man… but when he bit my neck, I passed out. When I opened my eyes in the hospital, my husband was already sitting beside me, staring at the dark marks on my neck

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Robert gave a bitter little smile.

“Because I was ashamed.”

“Of me?”

“Of myself.”

His voice cracked.

“Of getting old. Of realizing I wasn’t the same man you married.”

Tears started rolling down my face again.

All that time, I had believed I was the only one terrified of aging.

But the man sleeping beside me had been living with the same fear.

We simply hadn’t spoken about it.

I reached for his hand.

“I cheated on you.”

Robert didn’t rush to comfort me.

He didn’t say it was okay.

He didn’t tell me to forget about it.

And somehow, I was grateful for that.

He simply said,

“Yes.”

That one word hurt.

Because it was true.

“Do you think you could ever forgive me?”

Robert looked at me for a long time.