“Yes.”
The answer hurt.
But it was clean.
No excuses.
No Rebecca.
No tragic past used as a shield.
Just yes.
I stood and walked toward the window.
Outside, our backyard looked exactly as it always had.
That seemed offensive somehow.
How could the world remain unchanged while seventeen years rearranged themselves inside me?
“Why keep the note?”
“To remind myself.”
“You ignored it.”
“I know.”
“Then what good was the reminder?”
“None.”
I turned.
Daniel’s face looked exhausted.
“I think part of me kept it because I wanted to believe recognizing the problem made me better than the problem.”
That was perhaps the most truthful thing he had ever said.
“I knew I was wrong,” he continued. “But every night I found a reason why that night was different.”
I sat again.
“I need time away.”
His face tightened.
“How long?”
“I don’t know.”
He nodded.
No bargaining.
No promises.
