​She slipped her wedding ring back on.

 

There was just enough time to make the bed before he came home.

 

Still, her hands shook as she tucked the corners and smoothed,

 

and smoothed,

 

and smoothed,

 

the wrinkles, knowing all along it was never going to work.

 

She slid to her knees and pressed a pillow to her face. Sobs of regret shook her.

 

It didn’t matter if he knew. Her heart knew. It was over.

 

Yes, she’d washed the evidence. She’d cleaned the sheets.

 

But, no matter how hard you try, broken trust never heals.

 

And some stains never bleach.

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