A woman reflects on her failed marriage.

The beginning of marital life was like a TV Commercial.

We have a perfect symphony, always laughing, smiling and sharing fun jokes. We were always on the right "frequency" in our naked or kinky intimacies. Our penthouse home was perfect. The kitchen immaculate, overlooking a most lovely island. Our decor was stunning, earning praises and delight from our parents and friends. We owned a luxurious white Benz, and our vacations were always instagrammable. We purchased presents for each other, indulged in expensive spas and their products. We felt it was worth our monies spent. Our love was often enhanced by spending money. We ate the best food. Our careers proceeded well, paying us huge bonuses.

Alas, as many have said, all good things have to come to an end. And so it did. One thing leads to another, with him eventually straying. On divorce papers, I naturally put the blame on him entirely, to maximise my share of asset division. In my heart, I knew I was equally responsible for the decay. If there was a novamine potion in preventing things from ever reaching this point of no return I would have definitely purchased it, and scrubbed clean both our bodies and souls.

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