My stomach tightened.
“What did you say?”
“The truth.”
Which was?
“Yes.”
He stared down at his hands.
“I knew.”
The night seemed suddenly colder.
“I told myself you didn’t really mind.”
I waited.
“I told myself couples compromise.”
Still I waited.
“And when you refused, I acted hurt until you changed your mind.”
His voice broke slightly.
“I didn’t call it pressure because I never yelled.”
I looked at him.
“I need you to understand something.”
He nodded.
“Realizing it now doesn’t erase seventeen years.”
“I know.”
“And therapy isn’t a receipt you can hand me proving everything is fixed.”
“I know.”
“And I may never feel the same way about our marriage again.”
His eyes filled, but he didn’t look away.
“I know.”
The old Daniel would have reached for my hand.
The new one—or perhaps the Daniel trying to become someone new—left his hands exactly where they were.
