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My wonderful husband, until then, a good man, changed that day. He became sullen, vindictive, and hostile. He packed up and left the house. His only words to me were that I was a slut and he hoped I would rot in hell. He woke our two girls and told them he was leaving because their mother was a lying, cheating whore and that he wouldn’t see them for a long time. But that they should remember it was their mother’s fault. It was a long time before we spoke again and when we did, he did little more than curse at me. Suddenly, random acts of violence and vandalism began occurring. My lover’s tires were slashed, and the word slut was keyed into all my car doors and spray painted on the front door of the house I once shared with my husband.