Chapter 19

Dear Ravneet,

I don’t know if this letter will reach you in response to yours. I think that you were aware that if you couldn’t get out, only luck, Providence, or both would enable your admittedly heartbroken and apologetic “Dear John” epistle to reach my desk. Well, it obviously arrived, and if you’re reading this, so did my response by the oddest quirk of Fate or God or whatever.

I must confess that this hurts. It hurts a lot, in fact. But you know that. It clearly hurts you as well. I must admit that I deserve some of the pain, in spite of my rather noble work. I have betrayed our vows, our marriage, and I could make excuses, such as loneliness, but there is clearly no ‘loneliness’ clause in marriage vows, is there? Yes, I was ... and am ... unfaithful to you. With my boss, the chief surgeon.

I don’t know if you’ve been unfaithful, too, but I doubt it. You’re the sort that would confess almost right away if you lapsed as I did. I must confess to lacking your moral fiber in that respect. I had to work up the courage and get a swift kick in the ass to do the right thing, pardon my French, as the Americans say.

Well, neither of us meant to hurt the other, and yet in this case, causing each other pain is something sadly inescapable in this case. I will file if it helps, just because you know that way it will be filed. Since I was the cheater, obviously, the grounds will have to be something other than my own infidelity. I suppose that my adultery just proves your point. If I couldn’t handle this short of a separation, how are either of us supposed to endure a longer, undefined one, with no end in sight?