Chapter 18
He had given another woman access to feelings he had withheld from his wife.
He had discussed the state of our marriage while I was still inside it, trying to keep it alive.
“I never intended for it to become that,” he said.
“But it did.”
“Yes.”
He was quiet for a moment.
“Being around her reminded me of who I was before everything changed.”
I looked at him.
“Before what changed?”
“Before my father died.”
He swallowed.
“Before the company became my responsibility.”
I knew how much his father’s death had shaped him.
I had held him through nights when he woke from dreams he refused to describe.
I had watched him carry obligations that would have crushed other people.
For years, I had used that knowledge to excuse the ways he hurt me.
I wasn’t going to do it again.
“I understand why the past mattered to you,” I said.
“But I don’t understand why finding it required betraying me.”
Vincent looked down.
“I don’t have a good answer.”
For once, he didn’t attempt to manufacture one.
I let the silence remain.
He rubbed his thumb against the edge of his glass.
“I thought I had everything under control.”
I almost laughed.
“That’s always been your problem.”
He looked up.
“You were unhappy,” he said.
“And instead of asking why, I convinced myself we’d become incompatible.”
My chest tightened.
“You decided that?”
“Yes.”
“Without talking to me?”
He nodded.
“I thought we wanted different things.”
I stared at him.
“What did you think I wanted?”
He opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
He seemed genuinely unable to answer.
The waitress arrived with our food.
We thanked her.
Neither of us touched our plates.
Finally, Vincent said, “I thought you wanted a comfortable life.”
I looked at him.
“A beautiful house.”
I said nothing.
“Security.”
Still I waited.
“Stability.”
I felt tears gathering.
“And what made you think I wanted those things more than I wanted my work?”
He looked helpless.
“I don’t know.”
“What made you think I wanted an empty house more than a husband who came home?”
“Mara—”
“What made you think I stopped wanting to be a surgeon because you made it possible for me to stop worrying about money?”
He flinched.
“I thought I was giving you freedom.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“You gave me choices that all led back to the life you preferred.”