The night before I left my husband, I taught him how to make mashed potatoes. Our friends had offered him a place to stay for the night so I could be alone. I wanted to gather my thoughts and my belongings for a flight back to my hometown the next morning. We both knew he was about to walk out the door, leaving me in our tiny apartment in Chicago, alone for the first time in seven years. He was in love with a man he’d met at work. I was done trying to pretend he wasn’t. It was over....