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From The New York Times and WBUR Boston, this is Modern Love.

Stories of Love, loss and redemption.

I'm your host, Megna Chakrabardi.

90 days may not seem like a terribly long time, but for Brook Reinhart, it was the exact amount of time when her beautiful life, her marriage, new house and plans to start a family, all came to a complete stop.

You may know Anna Klomsky from the popular HBO comedy VEEP. She reads us Brook Reinhart's essay, sharing the shame after my arrest.

We had been married for just over a year when the FBI showed up at our house at 6 a.m. and arrested me.

They arrested my husband too, although at the time that seemed beside the point.

A stickler for rules who had never even gotten a speeding ticket. I was handcuffed in my mismatched pajamas and hauled away.

My teeth weren't even brushed.

The charges against me, against us both, were wire fraud and conspiracy to commit mail fraud.

In a state of shock, I began babbling to the FBI agents that I would never open mail that wasn't addressed to me. Never, ever.

If only it were that simple.

When the indictment was unsealed, I learned that my dear husband had, in the simplest terms, used my identity to embezzle tens of thousands of dollars from his workplace, among other crimes.

His using my identity made it look as if I was involved. I wasn't.

I appeared in a federal courtroom to plead not guilty. A newspaper photographer chased me down the street, trying to get a picture of my face.

I handed over my passport to the court. I took drug tests, a process that almost made me laugh. What would show up my clared in?

I was a signed probation officer that I had to see every week. I took more drug tests.

I wasn't allowed to leave the state unless the court approved. I died inside. Day by day.

I vacated the beautiful house my husband and I had bought eight months earlier, leaving my clothes and the new kitchen gadgets for my bridal shower, leaving the new neighborhood where I had begun to make friends, and leaving my husband.

And I moved home. A 28-year-old going back to my parents' house while my personal life was plastered across the news.

Everyone saying I had conspired to commit crimes.

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