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He was a dazzling movie star, adored by millions, and I was the wife he claimed to love above all else. But lately, I'd grown quiet. A month ago, at his biggest award ceremony, he left me alone to dine with his widowed sister-in-law. I took a cab home, and for once, I didn't argue. Two weeks ago, he forgot my birthday—too busy cooking pasta for her. I lit the candles, ate my cake, and went to bed. Two days ago, I ended up in the hospital with a bleeding ulcer. He wasn't there. He was bandaging her hand. Now, he said he waned her to live with us. Forever. And so I whispered to the system that had once given me this life. "I'm ready to leave."