“And that’s why you married me?”
He shrugged.
“It’s part of it.”
My voice became very quiet.
“Did you love me?”
He looked almost confused by the question.
“Of course I loved you.”
“Then why does it sound like you interviewed me for a position?”
He sighed.
“You’re twisting my words.”
“No, Ryan. I’m finally listening to them.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“Megan, men need peace when they come home.”
“And women don’t?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“You didn’t have to.”
He looked at me for a long moment.
Then he said the sentence that finally broke something inside me.
“Love comes later. A man first chooses a woman who will make his life easier.”
I felt something inside me go quiet.
Not rage.
Not sadness.
Something deeper.
Recognition.
For ten years, I had been asking myself why Ryan didn’t notice how much I did.
Now I knew.
He noticed.
He simply believed it was my job.
I whispered:
“So you didn’t choose me because of who I was.”
He said nothing.
“You chose me because of what I would do for you.”
Still nothing.
“You weren’t looking for a wife.”
He looked away.
“You were looking for someone who would make your life comfortable.”
