One day, I shared a casual photo with my husband of me standing next to our neighbor’s horse, Thunder, a large and gentle black horse I had come to admire while volunteering at the stables.
I didn’t think much of it back then, but everything shifted when he laid eyes on the picture. He focused intently, scrutinized it thoroughly, and then delivered a startling message:
“I want a divorce.” Perplexed and assuming it was a prank, I was taken aback when he called, his tone brimming with rage and blame.
He insisted on understanding how long “this” had been occurring, and I was at a loss until he indicated the shadow on my back.
Thunder’s head and neck created a shadow that resembled a man standing behind me, his hands resting on my waist. In spite of my earnest efforts to clarify the illusion, he remained unconvinced. That solitary flash of light broke his trust, and no explanation could mend the harm done.
A seemingly innocent encounter with a horse ultimately led to the dissolution of our marriage.
