She said I love you twice a day every day for 22 years. She said it in the morning as I left for work. She said it back to me before we fell asleep at night.
When I found the texts on her phone, there were hundreds of I love yous. To a number that wasn’t mine. I didn’t find them on purpose. She asked me to find a number for her, and I hit the wrong fucking button.
I didn’t tell her. We had 22 years behind us. We had something comfortable. If she could still say those I love yous to me, I would take them. And if she needed something from someone else that I couldn’t give her, if that’s what it took for me to make her happy, to keep her, I could live with that.
I thought I could live with that.