Chapter 19
“People were already talking. You gave them a quote on the red carpet.”
His face changed.
He remembered.
I leaned closer.
“Tell me something. When you said I wouldn’t show my face, what exactly was I supposed to be ashamed of?”
He said nothing.
“My divorce?”
Silence.
“My age?”
His eyes moved away.
“My miscarriages?”
“Stop saying that word.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
His composure cracked.
“Because you act like I didn’t lose them too.”
The words were louder than he intended.
Several nearby guests turned.
For one heartbeat, none of us moved.
Then I said quietly, “You did.”
Julian looked startled.
I continued.
“You lost them too. And you were allowed to grieve them.”
“You were allowed to be angry. You were allowed to be terrified.”
“But you decided your grief made mine inconvenient.”
His face collapsed slightly.
“You think I don’t know I failed you?”
The question stopped me.
I had never heard Julian use that word about himself.
Failed.
Not miscalculated.
Not mishandled.
Failed.
He looked at me.
“I knew I couldn’t fix it.”
My anger faltered.
He swallowed.
“Every time you got pregnant, I thought if I stayed calm enough, if I kept working, if I acted like life was normal, then maybe it would be.”
I said nothing.
“The third time…” He looked away.
“I knew what the blood meant.”
My chest tightened.
“I knew before you said it.”
“Then why did you leave?”
He closed his eyes.
“Because I was a coward.”
Dalia stared at him.
So did I.
Julian’s voice dropped.
“I couldn’t sit in another hospital room.”
I felt tears burn behind my eyes.
“But I had to.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t get to choose.”
“I know.”
“You made me do it alone.”
“I know.”
There it was.
Not enough to repair anything.
Not enough to undo anything.
But finally, after two years—
Truth.
Julian looked at my stomach.
Then at Gabriel, who had remained several yards away, watching without interfering.
His expression twisted.
“And now you get this.”
My hand moved protectively over my baby.
“This is not something I got instead of you.”
He looked at me.
“This child is not a verdict on our marriage. He is not proof that you were the problem, or that I was the problem, or that Gabriel won something you lost.”
Julian’s eyes glistened.
“You think that makes it easier?”
“No.”
“Then what does it make?”