Chương 5
I saw it.
But I let him walk inside.
Because whatever happened between us, he was still their father.
Miles was awake, staring at the ceiling with the serious expression he always had.
Owen was moving his arms like he was trying to argue with the world.
Nolan smiled.
For a moment, he looked like the man I married.
Then I remembered the message.
And the moment disappeared.
He reached down and touched Owen's hand.
"I missed them."
I stood in the doorway.
"You saw them yesterday."
"I know."
"Then what do you mean?"
His hand stopped moving.
"I mean I missed being here."
The honesty caught me off guard.
Because I knew what he meant.
And I hated that I understood.
"You don't get to miss a life you walked away from."
He looked down.
"I know."
The words were becoming familiar.
Too familiar.
"I need the truth, Nolan."
He nodded.
"All of it."
"Yes."
"Not the version that makes you look better."
He looked at me.
For several seconds, neither of us moved.
Then he said quietly, "I don't know if there is a version where I look better."
And for the first time since the message appeared on his phone, I believed he might finally be ready to stop hiding.
"I don't know if there is a version where I look better."
And for the first time since the message appeared on his phone, I believed he might finally be ready to stop hiding.
Nolan sat at the edge of the chair near the nursery door.
He did not look at me when he started speaking.
That was unusual.
Nolan had always been someone who looked people in the eye when he wanted them to believe him.
"I met Kendra at work about fourteen months ago."
I folded my arms.
"Fourteen months."
He nodded.
The number sounded different coming from him.
More deliberate.
More real.
"We were on the same project."
"What kind of project?"
"An expansion deal with one of our biggest clients."
I waited.
He rubbed his hands together.
"It started as conversations."
"About work?"
"At first."
I looked away.
There was always an at first.
People used those words when they were trying to separate the harmless version of something from the version that caused damage.
"She was easy to talk to," Nolan said.
I looked back at him.
"Don't."
He stopped.
"Don't tell me she understood you."
His expression changed slightly.
Because that had been exactly where he was going.
"I wasn't going to say that."
"You were thinking it."
He looked down.
"Maybe."
I nodded slowly.
"Because that's what people say when they hurt someone who trusts them."
The room became quiet.
Nolan glanced toward the nursery.
"The truth is, I was unhappy."
The words hit harder than I expected.
Not because they surprised me.
Because I had spent the last year wondering what I had missed.
"What were you unhappy about?"
He hesitated.
"I don't know."
I almost smiled.
Not because it was funny.
Because even now, when he was finally telling the truth, he still struggled to look directly at it.
"You don't know."
"I was stressed."
"Everyone is stressed."
"I know."
"I was pregnant."
His face tightened.
"I know."
"I was scared."
"I know."
"No, Nolan."
My voice stayed quiet.
That made him listen more.
"You don't know."
I pointed toward the nursery.
"You knew I was scared because I told you."
"You knew I couldn't sleep because I told you."
"You knew I was worried about becoming a mother because I trusted you enough to show you that part of me."
He swallowed.
"And while I was telling you all the things I was afraid of, you were building a relationship with someone else."
He had no answer.
That was becoming the only answer he had left.
"I ended it with her," he said.
"When?"
"Two months ago."
I stared at him.
"Two months ago?"
"Yes."
"And then you came home and helped me prepare for the babies."
He nodded.
"Yes."
"Why?"
His eyes moved around the room.
The painted walls.
The shelves of books.
The tiny clothes folded on the changing table.
"I thought I could fix it before you found out."
I felt something cold settle in my chest.
"Fix it."
He closed his eyes.
"I know how it sounds."
"It sounds like you were trying to protect yourself."
He did not argue.
That hurt more than if he had.
"Did she know you were married?"
"Yes."
"Did she know about me?"
"Yes."
"Did she know about the babies?"
"Yes."
I looked at him.
"And she still waited?"
He looked uncomfortable.
"She believed I was leaving."
The sentence stayed in the air.
Not because it was surprising.
Because it opened another door.
A door I did not want to walk through.
"You told her you were leaving me."
Nolan looked away.
"At one point."
"When?"
"During a fight."
"What fight?"
He took a breath.
"The night we had the argument about moving."
I remembered.
A year earlier.
Before the nursery.
Before the babies.
Before everything changed.
We had argued because Nolan wanted to take a promotion that would require more travel.
I had been exhausted from pregnancy symptoms and terrified of raising children while he was constantly gone.
He had said I didn't support his goals.
I had said he didn't understand what I was sacrificing.
We both said things we regretted.
But I never knew he had walked away from that argument and created a second life.
"You told her you were divorcing me because we had one bad fight?"
"No."
"Then why?"
He looked ashamed.
"Because I wanted it to be true."
The honesty hurt.
I sat down slowly.
That was the first sentence he had said that felt completely honest.
Not because it made him look better.
Because it made him look worse.
"You wanted a different life."
"Yes."
May you like
"And then when she became pregnant, you wanted this one back."
His silence was enough.
