They were the result of people finally making decisions based on the truth.
Months later, Mark asked me to meet him for coffee.
I almost refused.
Then I decided that if I was going to move forward, I didn’t want my life to be controlled by the fear of seeing him.
We met at a small café near the center of town.
He looked older. His shoulders seemed narrower, and there were deep lines around his eyes that I didn’t remember.
For a moment, I saw the young man I had married.
The man who had held my hand when our first child was born. The man who had helped me paint the nursery. The man who used to come home tired and sit with me at the kitchen table while we talked about our dreams.
Those memories were real.
So was the betrayal.
He told me he had started therapy.
