Their feelings were not permission to betray me.
And a wedding invitation was not a contract requiring me to forgive anyone who hurt me.
Daniel sent messages for weeks.
He wrote about his father. He explained his shame. He apologized for the affair and promised that he would spend the rest of his life earning back my trust.
I read every message.
I answered none of them.
My mother called, too. Sometimes she cried. Sometimes she asked whether I had eaten. Once, she left a message saying that she missed the sound of my voice.
I missed her, too.
That was the most painful part.
Betrayal does not always erase love. Sometimes it leaves love sitting beside anger, grief, and disbelief, with no clear way to separate them.
For several weeks, I couldn’t enter the bridal shop without feeling sick. I packed away the wedding invitations and returned the jewelry Daniel had given me.
