Mara couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment she fell out of love with her husband, Dan. Maybe it was watching him brush his teeth with his eyes squeezed tight, or the thousandth time she picked up his dirty socks sitting just outside the edge of the hamper. Or maybe it didn’t happen in one moment, but in a thousand tiny ones; each minor infraction becoming a new tick on the wall of her marriage.

She could leave. Maybe. But he was a good man. Her mom always said you don’t divorce someone unless they are hurting you or other people; unhappy isn’t good enough. What if her unhappiness was hurting her, slowly killing her day by day as she lived a life she never dreamed of living? She recalled her parents’ turbulent relationship, the shouting matches and threats to divorce that never came to fruition. She promised herself she would never have a marriage like theirs, and she didn’t.

Dancing at their wedding under the twinkling lights, surrounded by friends that had long faded into their past, she had dreamed of the adventures and the romance, of things always being this way. “You’re so lucky,” her friends told her. “I would give anything to have a man look at me like that,” someone else said. She knew their looks would fade with age, but she always thought that meant wrinkles and gray hairs, not the easy smiles and twinkling eyes.

That day, she returned home from work to an empty house; she didn’t bother to check whether Dan had texted her that he would be late. He hadn’t, and she didn’t really care anyway. She prepared herself a dinner for one, cleaning up her own dishes in the sink and pushing Dan’s to the side for him to take care of later. When he arrived home, hours later, he tossed her a quick “hello” over his shoulder, not even taking the time to look her way. Mara was asleep before he came to bed.

There was so little they did say these days. Their conversations felt perfunctory and administrative, and mostly took place on their phones.

Mara: Can you get more milk on your way home?

Dan: Yes. Can you see if we need more olives?

Mara: Have you checked the mailbox today?

Dan: No.

She remembered when they took walks in the park, both broke college students, discussing anything and everything. Back then, it seemed like there wasn’t enough time to get out all the things they wanted to say. And then, at some point in the last ten years, they had said it all. Everything had been sorted and sifted a hundred times over. The story about him taking the wrong bus while traveling in Canada and hitchhiking back no longer felt spontaneous and fun; it felt impulsive and reckless. Mara ground her teeth every time he told it. His one tale he whipped out for parties and new acquaintances. He soaked up the shock and delight of his listeners as he wove through the perils and trials of his quest. “Your husband is so fun,” someone would tell her. She would grin and nod.

At work, all she had was time to stew on her disconnect. She held it at bay with daydreams of Garret in accounting. She didn’t know the moment when she began to fall in love with him. Maybe it was when their hands touched as he handed her papers she had left on the copier. The brief meeting of skin felt more intimate than anything she had experienced with Dan in months. Or maybe it was the grin he flashed her across the office when he caught her staring his way, a playfulness dancing across his lips.

He dressed like his appearance still mattered to him and laughed at her boring stories when no one else in the break room seemed to be listening. She started to refill her coffee more often, hoping to catch him passing by for a quick exchange of small talk. He didn’t say it out loud, but she could read between the lines that he felt the electricity between them, too.

Mara changed her perfume to something light and floral. She wondered what kind of perfume Garret liked on a woman, what his lips would feel like against hers. She wondered if he would notice the way she had spent extra time on her hair in the morning. If Dan did, he didn’t say.

The company holiday party was coming up, the time of year when it was okay to drink too much and let your hair down. In the sea of employees, it was easy to be invisible, your indiscretions unnoticed. She just had to find a way to make sure Dan stayed home this year.

Mara broached the subject as they met in the kitchen, both there to scavenge something for dinner before retreating to their own spaces in the house.

“I was thinking about the company holiday party,” said Mara.

Dan didn’t look up, his face buried in the far reaches of the fridge, “It’s coming up, isn’t it?”

“On Saturday. But I was thinking that I don’t have to drag you along this year,” Mara’s pulse quickened. She wasn’t telling a lie, but she knew in her gut that she wasn’t being truthful either. “You don’t know anyone, and it’s always so boring. I’ll just get a room at the hotel and come back in the morning.”

“Are you sure?” said Dan, finally emerging with a Tupperware container in hand. “I don’t mind going with you.”

“No, no, you stay home and relax. Or why don’t you call up one of your friends and go get a drink?” Mara hoped that she wasn’t pushing too hard. She didn’t want to seem desperate.

Dan looked at her for a moment and opened his mouth, then closed it. He shrugged his shoulders. “Okay.” That was the last thing they said to each other that night.

On Saturday afternoon, Mara packed her overnight bag and checked in at the hotel. The company party was always held in the ballroom on the first floor with an open bar. It wasn’t unusual for employees to stay the night rather than finding a ride home after a night of drinking. This year, she had taken special care to pick out an outfit that would be sure to catch Garret’s attention. Her standard work attire consisted of a rotation of black slacks, modest blouses, and loafers. She had donated all of her going-out attire years ago. There wasn’t much need for short skirts or revealing tops when you spend most of your Friday nights on the couch.

For the party, she chose a dark red velvet dress with a plunging neckline and ruching at the waist to conceal the small amount of weight she carried in her midsection. She paired the dress with black heels purchased before she and Dan were even married. After showering and drying her hair into a perfect blowout, she applied her makeup in a way that said she was trying, but not too hard.

When she met up with some of her coworkers downstairs for the cocktail hour, she was excited to see that heads were turning.

“Mara! Wow!” her officemate Julia said, “You look amazing.”

Mara blushed and tried to brush off the compliment. “I just stumbled on this dress and thought it would be fun.” She had spent hours of company time searching online until she found it.

She grabbed a Coke with vodka, a trick she used in college to make it look like she was drinking whiskey. Guys always liked a girl who drank whiskey and laughed at their dirty jokes. Dan had ordered a vodka cranberry the first time they went out; he didn’t like the taste of whiskey.

Mara made her way around the room, taking delicate sips of her drink through the small stirring straw. She didn’t want to smudge her lipstick, not yet. There across the room, she spotted him, Garret. She maneuvered casually toward him, stopping to chat with anyone nearby in his line of sight. She looked his way and caught his eye. Garret smiled, ended the conversation he was having, and made his way to her.

“You look stunning tonight,” he said.

Mara blushed and looked at her feet, her heart racing. “You don’t look too bad yourself,” she replied. He was dressed in a navy suit cut in a slim-fitting style, which showed off his broad shoulders.

He smiled at her, and then saw someone over her shoulder, and his expression changed. What she had thought was a sparkling smile for her was nothing compared to the way his face lit up, his eyes wrinkling at the corners. Mara turned to see who he was looking at.

An attractive black man in a dark green suit was walking straight toward them. She watched, confused, as to why this man elicited such a reaction from Garret, until he stopped at Garret’s side and planted a loving kiss on his lips. The way they leaned into each other and the gentleness of the man’s touch on Garret’s face made Mara blush. Like she was intruding on a private moment not meant for her eyes, she couldn’t recall the last time Dan kissed her like that.

“I’d like you to meet my husband, Jeremy,” said Garret, putting his arm around the man. “Jeremy, this is Mara. She works in sales?”

She felt the air suck out of the room, the sounds of the party fading to a hum in the background. She squeezed her hands into fists, feeling the bite of her nails against the palms of her hands.

“Marketing,” corrected Mara. “It’s very nice to meet you, Jeremy.”

They continued discussing the decor in the ballroom and how fun it was to see everyone from work dressed up. Did she know Rebecca in project management? Jeremy worked with her previously and wanted to say hi.  

“Would you excuse me for a moment?”

She didn’t wait for their response before turning away, hot tears burning her eyes. She slammed back her drink, the vodka burning her throat, and set the glass down on a table near the ballroom doors. She headed to her hotel room, feeling like an absolute fool. All of the glances and signals she had thought Garret was sending her were just him being polite. Or maybe he did find her attractive, but he was clearly happily married.

In the bathroom mirror’s fluorescent light, she examined her face; she was revolted by what she saw. All of the effort she had put into her makeup, not for herself, but to catch the attention of someone else. She flipped on the faucet and stripped off the velvet dress that looked more like a costume with each passing minute. Steam from the hot water fogged the mirror as she scrubbed away her mask.

Standing there bare with all of her imperfections on display, she looked at herself, the self that only her husband really got to see.

She didn’t hate Dan. He had done nothing to hurt her, but nothing to sustain their love either. Her stomach turned at the idea of him finding out what she had done, not because he would leave her, but because of how hurt she knew he would be. Mara sent off a quick text to Julia telling her she didn’t feel well, and she shoved the dress and heels into the bag. She pulled on the casual clothes she had brought for tomorrow morning.

At the front desk, she slid her key across the counter.

“You want to check out?” the clerk asked, perplexed.

“I shouldn’t be here,” was all Mara said.

She drove home to find the house empty. The silence was cold without the background hum or Dan moving around the house. Fear that he had somehow known what she had been planning on doing crawled up her spine. She shook it off, confident that he had just run out to grab something, not left for good. Mara turned on a single lamp in the living room and sat to wait for Dan to return.

He arrived fifteen minutes later, smelling like Thai food. There were leftovers in his hands.

“You’re home,” Dan said as he walked in the front door. His shoulders were set.

“I missed you,” Mara said.

Surprise flashed across Dan’s face briefly before it slipped back to his typical impassive expression. “I’ll just go put this in the fridge and head to my office. You can watch whatever you want on the TV.”

Mara patted the spot on the couch next to her, “Come sit with me instead?”

The conversation was slow at first, hesitant. It was like new lovers meeting for the first time, unsure of what to say to each other.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you, but I hate the brand of olives you’ve been buying,” said Mara.

“Why didn’t you say something two years ago when I started buying them?”

“I don’t know,” Mara answered honestly. It felt strange telling Dan the truth, like trying on new shoes that would take time to mold to your feet.

“Well, I’m glad you told me finally.”

The hours passed by effortlessly, neither of them wanting to move off the couch and break the spell they were under. For the first time in years, Dan and Mara talked, really talked. They rediscovered old things they had forgotten about each other, like the way they both snorted when they laughed, only leading to further laughter. They discovered new things too, like that they had both been separately re-watching the same TV show in their separate spaces of the house.

When the sun started to peek through the curtains of their living room, Mara found herself seeing Dan in a new light.

“Tell me that story about how you hitchhiked in Canada again. I want to hear it.”