The Cheating Husband’s Painful Secret

The harsh, sterile light of the emergency room usually brought me a sense of purpose. But tonight, it felt like a spotlight on my humiliation.

There, on a gurney, was my husband, Liam, clutching his groin, his face pale and contorted, his designer jeans cut away by paramedics.

Next to him, a young woman in a crop top, mascara streaked, held his hand, whining about him collapsing.

Then I saw it on his chart: Priapism. A prolonged, painful erection. A side effect of recreational drugs. On our tenth wedding anniversary.

"I\'m his wife," I finally managed, the words tasting like acid.