Chương 6
I remembered throwing clothes into a suitcase while Samantha sat silently on the bed.
I remembered saying, “Maybe we’re just done.”
Not I want a divorce.
Not I want to leave you.
Maybe we’re done.
A sentence designed to avoid responsibility.
At the time, I had convinced myself I was being honest.
Now it sounded like a coward’s way of asking someone else to make the decision.
“I was angry,” I said.
“I know.”
“I thought you stopped fighting.”
Samantha gave a small, tired laugh.
“I was exhausted.”
The honesty in her voice made me look up.
“I had spent months trying to convince you that I wasn’t the enemy.”
I looked away.
“She never liked me.”
“My mother.”
“Yes.”
The word came quietly.
“She always thought I wasn’t good enough for you.”
I felt a familiar discomfort.
The kind I used to feel during family dinners.
The kind I ignored.
“She wasn’t always like that.”
Samantha looked at me.
“She was.”
I wanted to disagree.
But I couldn’t.
Because I remembered.
I remembered my mother criticizing Samantha’s cooking because it was “too fancy.”
I remembered her saying Samantha worked too much.
I remembered her saying Samantha cared more about her career than becoming a mother.
And every time, I had found a way to avoid taking a side.
“She said things to me,” Samantha continued.
“She said things to you too.”
“Not the same things.”
I swallowed.
“What did she say?”
Samantha hesitated.
Then she shook her head.
“It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“It matters to me.”
“No.”
Her answer was firm.
“It matters because you’re trying to understand what happened.”
She looked at me.
“But understanding is not the same as fixing.”
The sentence stayed with me.
Because she was right.
I had spent one day learning about Noah and already wanted forgiveness.
I wanted to believe knowing the truth made me innocent.
It didn’t.
“I want to meet him,” I said again.
Samantha nodded.
“I know.”
“What do I need to do?”
That question seemed to matter more than the others.
She sat down across from me.
“You need to be consistent.”
I nodded.
“I can do that.”
“You don’t know that yet.”
The honesty annoyed me.
Then I realized that was exactly what made her different from everyone else.
Samantha had never been good at making me feel better.
She had been good at making me see things I didn’t want to see.
“You have a wedding planned,” she said.
The reminder felt like a door closing.
“I know.”
“Do you love Chloe?”
The question caught me off guard.
“Yes.”
Samantha nodded.
“Good.”
I stared at her.
“That’s it?”
“What else should I say?”
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to hate her?”
“No.”
“Maybe part of you does.”
I looked away.
Because maybe she was right.
Not because Chloe was the reason I lost five years.
But because she represented the life I built while another life was happening without me.
“She made mistakes,” Samantha said.
I looked back.
“She did.”
“But so did I.”
I frowned.
“What mistake did you make?”
She smiled sadly.
“I believed I could protect everyone by staying quiet.”
The answer surprised me.
“I don’t understand.”
“I thought if Noah grew up happy, that was enough.”
“And was it?”
She looked toward the refrigerator where the drawing was hanging.
“No.”
The answer was immediate.
“He deserves the truth.”
A strange feeling moved through me.
Respect.
Not forgiveness.
Not yet.
But respect.
“What do you want from me?”
She looked at me for a long time.
“I want you to stop thinking about what you lost.”
The words hit me.
“I want you to think about what he lost.”
I nodded slowly.
“No promises.”
I looked at her.
“Why?”
“Because promises are easy.”
She looked down at her hands.
“You made a lot of promises when we were married.”
That one hurt.
Not because it was cruel.
Because it was true.
I left her apartment an hour later with the folder in my passenger seat.
I did not drive home immediately.
I parked near the lake and sat there watching people walk along the path.
A man threw a ball for his dog.
Two teenagers laughed while taking pictures.
An older couple shared a drink from a paper cup.
Normal moments.
The kind of moments I had spent years chasing while ignoring the ones right in front of me.
My phone buzzed.
This time it was my mother.
I answered.
“Ethan.”
“What else did you hide?”
Silence.
That silence was becoming the sound of my entire life.
“Your father knows.”
I gripped the steering wheel.
“My father?”
“He knew I talked to Samantha.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
My mother sighed.
“He knew.”
“And he said nothing?”
“He thought it was my mistake to fix.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Everyone in this family had a role.”
“Ethan.”
“No.”
I stared out at the water.
“You all decided my life was something you could manage.”
My mother’s voice broke slightly.
“I was scared.”
“I know.”
“I thought you would go back to her.”
“Maybe I should have.”
The words came out before I could soften them.
My mother went quiet.
“Do you still love her?”
I looked at the folder beside me.
The question should have been simple.
Instead, it felt impossible.
“I don’t know.”
That was the truth.
I loved the woman Samantha had been.
I cared about the woman she became.
But five years had passed.
People changed.
Maybe love could survive distance.
Maybe it could not.
“Ethan,” my mother whispered.
“I have to go.”
I ended the call.
When I finally drove back to the house, Chloe was waiting outside.
She was sitting on the front steps wearing the same coat she had worn earlier.
She looked exhausted.
“I thought you said you needed space.”
“I did.”
“Then why are you here?”
She stood.
“Because I realized something.”
May you like
I waited.
“I spent three years telling myself I was staying quiet because I didn’t know the whole truth.”
