He was sensitive and thoughtful, someone who took commitment seriously.
The truth was more complicated and more painful.
I’d used intimate knowledge of David’s deepest insecurity to hurt him as badly as possible, and he’d decided that was a line he couldn’t forgive me for crossing.
In my more honest moments, I could admit that David’s reaction, while painful, wasn’t entirely unreasonable.
I had revealed something about my character that night, something that suggested I was capable of cruelty when pushed to my limits.
But understanding David’s perspective didn’t make the consequences any easier to bear.
I’d lost not just my husband, but my home, my social circle, my sense of identity as part of a couple.
The worst part was knowing that it had all been avoidable.
If I’d controlled my temper that night, if I’d chosen words meant to de-escalate rather than wound, David and I might still be together.
