PART 15
The silence stretched for a long, uncomfortable time.
Finally, David spoke.
His voice was barely a whisper, barely audible over the storm.
I read the journal entries.
I know.
I am so ashamed.
I looked at him in the flickering candlelight, studying the lines of exhaustion on his face.
Why, David?
Why did you let her do this to me?
He put his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking.
Because I was weak.
Because I was jealous.
You were so successful, Chloe.
You were so smart, and capable, and strong.
And I felt like nothing.
My mother told me that if I didn’t control you, you would leave me.
So I let her poison you.
I let her take your money.
I let her take your peace.
And I told myself it was for the good of the marriage.
He began to cry.
It was a deep, guttural sound, the sound of a man whose entire worldview had collapsed.
I am so sorry.
I am so, so sorry.
I watched him cry.
I felt a pang of the old love, a ghost of the man I used to know.
But it was buried under layers of betrayal and pain.
I believed in you, David.
I defended you.
When my friends said you were using me, I fought them.
I thought we were a team.
We were supposed to be a team.
He looked up, his eyes red, swollen, and pleading.
Can we be a team again?
I looked at the flickering candle, watching the flame dance.
I don’t know.
I really don’t know.
PART 16
The storm passed by morning.
The sun rose, casting a golden, hopeful light over the wet streets of Austin.
David was asleep on the couch, wrapped in the blanket.
I made coffee, the rich aroma filling the kitchen.
I sat at the kitchen island and thought about the future.
I could take him back.
It would be easy to fall into the old, comfortable patterns.
He was sorry.
He was broken.
But forgiveness is not a reset button.
It is a foundation that must be rebuilt from scratch, brick by heavy brick.
I woke him up gently.
He sat up, rubbing his eyes, looking disoriented.
Coffee?
Please.
I handed him a mug.
He took a sip and looked at me, waiting.
What happens now?
Now, we set the terms.
He nodded slowly, bracing himself.
I am listening.
You will continue to pay the restitution.
You will attend individual therapy to deal with your insecurity and your mother’s influence.
You will not speak to your mother about me, ever.
If you want to see me, it will be on a date.
We will start over as two single people getting to know each other.
No assumptions.
No entitlement.
And if you break any of these rules, the door closes forever.
He looked at me with a mixture of awe, respect, and profound sadness.
You are incredible, Chloe.
I know.
I took a sip of my coffee.
Do you accept the terms?
He took a deep, shuddering breath.
Yes.
I accept.
