Now he was telling me something I had needed to hear all along.
He could survive my no.
He could survive my anger.
He could even survive losing me.
Which meant staying with him, if I chose to, could finally become a choice.
That night, I opened the bedside drawer where I had placed Rebecca’s letter.
Under it was another piece of paper.
I didn’t recognize it.
It was in Daniel’s handwriting.
A note dated eleven years earlier.
I read it twice.
Emily said no tonight.
You made her feel guilty.
That is not love.
Stop doing this.
My hands began trembling.
Eleven years.
Daniel had understood eleven years ago.
Underneath the sentence was another.
Tomorrow, apologize and never ask again.
But he had asked again.
The following night.
And thousands of nights after that.
When Daniel entered the bedroom, he found me holding the note.
He stopped in the doorway.
