I think there's one simple word for what the author of the piece exhibited: Maturity.
here the wife has taken the position of Schrodinger's shark refusing to believe that we can empirically know whether or not the shark is dead, even admitting that it is possible for the shark to be both dead and alive.
Well, he didn’t move out.
Instead, he spent the summer being unreliable. He stopped coming home at his usual six o’clock. He would stay out late and not call. He blew off our entire Fourth of July — the parade, the barbecue, the fireworks — to go to someone else’s party. When he was at home, he was distant. He wouldn’t look me in the eye. He didn’t even wish me “Happy Birthday.”
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