The Ninth Goodbye: My Husband's Cruel Bet

On the night of our fifth anniversary, my husband left me standing on the shoulder of the Montauk Highway in a blinding thunderstorm.

His red taillights didn't even hesitate as they faded into the rain.

He abandoned me there because his ex-girlfriend, Isabelle, called to say she heard a scary noise in her basement.

I stood in my soaked silk dress, shivering not from the cold, but from the realization that this was the ninth time.

He had missed my gallbladder surgery to support her at a polo match.

He had missed my grandmother’s funeral to fix her flat tire.