“Every time she said something cruel. Every time she looked at me like I was still the man she had tried to buy off. Every time you defended her because you thought she was just worried about you.”
His voice cracked.
“But every time I looked at you, I remembered how much you’d already lost.”
I felt my anger falter.
He reached for my hand.
“I didn’t want you to lose your mother too.”
I pulled away, not because I didn’t love him, but because I didn’t know what to do with the hurt.
He had protected me from the truth, but he had also kept me outside a part of our marriage for five years.
“You should have trusted me with this,” I whispered.
“You’re right.”
“You should have let me decide what to do with my own mother.”
“You’re right.”
He didn’t defend himself.
He didn’t tell me I was overreacting.
