“You chose the start date.”
“You chose the schedule.”
“You chose the school.”
“You even started packing.”
I looked him directly in the eyes.
“What exactly was I supposed to contribute?”
Ben’s expression changed.
“I was trying to save us.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“You were trying to solve us.”
He went silent.
“And those aren’t the same thing.”
I put the folder down.
“You know what hurts the most?”
He looked at me.
“I would’ve listened.”
His eyes filled slightly.
“I would’ve listened to every reason you had.”
I swallowed.
“You didn’t trust me enough to let me disagree.”
He sat down.
For the first time that morning, he didn’t look like the confident surgeon everyone trusted.
He looked like my husband.
The man I’d slept beside for eleven years.
The man who knew how I took my coffee.
The man who knew I cried during certain movies.
The man who knew our daughter’s favorite cereal.
And somehow, he had made the biggest decision of our lives without me.
“I thought I was doing something good,” he whispered.
“Maybe you were.”
I picked up the lunch bag.
“But you did it the wrong way.”
I put it on his desk.
