When I walked in on my wife with my own brother, I didn’t scream or fight. I smiled. By the time she got home, the joint account was empty, her credit cards were useless, and every relative had the photos.I didn’t scream. I didn’t throw a chair. I didn’t even slam the door when I walked into my own bedroom and saw my wife of eight years riding my brother like her life depended on it. The sounds they were making covered my footsteps perfectly, like some sick soundtrack to betrayal. I just stood t

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