I held her until the house grew completely silent.
I held her until the woman who had spent so many years pretending she was fine finally allowed herself to stop pretending.
At some point, Anna pulled away and wiped her face.
“I’m sorry,” she said again.
I shook my head.
“You don’t have to apologize for crying.”
She looked embarrassed.
“I didn’t want our wedding night to be like this.”
“Neither did I.”
Her face fell, and I immediately realized how my words might have sounded.
I took both her hands.
“Listen to me. I imagined tonight would be romantic. I imagined we’d laugh, kiss, and talk about the life we’re going to build together. But I never imagined you would feel you had to hide something this painful from me.”
She lowered her eyes.
“I was afraid you would regret marrying me.”
“Regret marrying you?”
She nodded.
“I thought that if you saw the scars, you might think I was weak. Or damaged. Or that I had become someone you wouldn’t want.”
