I Was Just a Stand-In for His Dead First Love, Until I Walked Away for Good

When Otto Henson and I were dating, he always kept a careful distance, tender and restrained.

It wasn't until the second year of our marriage that we finally lived like newlyweds, tangled up in each other, the heat of it consuming.

But every night, afterward, Otto would insist on wiring money to my account.

Sometimes two hundred dollars, sometimes three, sometimes as much as three thousand.

Each time, he'd explain with that delighted smile,

"My wife works so hard. A little something to treat yourself."

I'd take it shyly, even tucked it away in quiet to cover our household costs.