"Burden and her husband shared an apartment in Tribeca and a house on Martha's Vineyard. They enjoyed romantic Friday-night dinners at a favorite restaurant. Their children thrived at élite private schools. Everything in their lives was curated and refined-ideal to a degree that suggested perfection. "I loved his clothes, the way he dressed for work," Burden writes-"a navy or charcoal-gray suit, a crisp shirt, a tie with some color . . . the attire of a responsible and trustworthy man.""
"United in their distaste for "the modern version" of the Hamptons, with its "competing, dressing up, and traffic," they felt at home at their club on the Vineyard, where members "gathered for cocktail parties in linen blazers and colorful dresses." Even the smallest details were fine-tuned: Burden writes that, although her husband was busy at his hedge fund, he "started sourcing Halloween candy in September, looking for hard-to-find brands of sour candy to fill our bowl.""
A marriage ended suddenly when infidelity was revealed by a stranger's voicemail. The couple maintained curated lives between a Tribeca apartment and a Martha's Vineyard house, with romantic Friday-night dinners and children at élite private schools. Appearances and small details were tightly managed, from tailored suits to sourcing rare Halloween candy. Social rituals at a Vineyard club reinforced a lifestyle of refinement and trustworthiness. Family lineage and inherited possessions shaped identity within the household. A striking moment of attraction—him descending stairs, tucking his oxford—preceded the collapse, revealing fragility beneath perfection.
Read at The New Yorker
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