Their conversation ran through his head while he sat in his car.
“We made a commitment to each other,” he said.
She pulled on her boots. “I can’t do this anymore.”
“You can’t leave me.”
Then she walked out the door into the darkness.
He’d meant every word of his vows, even if she hadn’t. He would see this marriage to the end, even if she wouldn’t.
He started the ignition. She was halfway down the street. Two spotlights shone on her back. She realized too late, blocking her face with her hands.
“‘Until death do us part.'”