“I want you to know that I finally understand that I was wrong.”
I looked at the man I had once imagined growing old beside.
Part of me still loved him.
Eighteen years of shared memories do not disappear simply because the truth becomes clear. Love can survive disappointment, but it cannot survive indefinitely when one person is forced to abandon herself to protect the other.
“I hope you learn to live honestly,” I told him. “But I can’t promise that I will be part of your future.”
He nodded.
We said goodbye.
I did not feel victorious.
I felt sad.
I was grieving the marriage I thought I had, the children we had hoped for, and the years I could never recover.
But beneath the sadness was something I had not felt in a very long time.
Freedom.
A year after my first secret visit to Dr. Wilson, I stood in front of the mirror in my own small apartment.
