Feigning my best look of anguish, I responded to Maverick’s performance. "Maverick, I want to forgive you, really. But what happens then? Every time I think about your infidelity, it’ll feel like stabbing myself all over again."

According to the script playing out in my head, there was no way I could forgive him too quickly. That would raise suspicion, not to mention shatter the image of a devastated woman betrayed by her husband.

No, I needed to waver—trapped ...