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In the seventh year of my marriage to Caleb Sterling, he danced with his first love, Iris Valois, at a gala, while I played "The Blue Danube" for them on the piano. As the last note faded, Iris sauntered over with a glass of wine, her voice dripping with condescension. "You'll always be just the background music. Be sensible and step aside early." "Indeed," I agreed. Then, I poured the red wine over the antique piano worth millions. "Your soulmate is right behind you. Why don't you ask him for me, when does he finally plan to divorce me?"