I had blamed myself.
I had wondered whether I was too sensitive.
Too insecure.
Too jealous.
But suddenly, sitting there with everyone staring at Mark, I realized something.
I had never been imagining it.
There had always been something between them.
And Mark had simply expected me to tolerate it.
Claire suddenly picked up her purse.
“This is ridiculous. I’m leaving.”
“Please do,” I said.
She stopped.
Then turned toward me.
“You think you’ve won?”
I looked at her calmly.
“No.”
I placed one final envelope on the table.
“I think neither of us has won.”
I looked at Mark.
“But I think the truth finally has.”
Mark stared at the envelope.
“What is that?”
I slid it toward him.
“Open it.”
He didn’t.
So I did it for him.
Inside was a letter.
From my lawyer.
Mark’s face drained of color.
“What did you do?”
I took a slow breath.
“I met with a lawyer two weeks ago.”
The room became painfully quiet.
“I wanted to understand my rights. Not because I had already decided to leave you. Because I wanted to know what would happen if I needed to protect myself and our baby.”
Mark shook his head.
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am.”
He stepped closer.
“You’re my wife.”
I looked at him.
“And you’re the man who told me tonight that your ex-wife ran your household better than I do.”
His expression collapsed.
I whispered,
“Maybe you should have thought about what kind of husband you were being before you decided what kind of wife I was.”
Then I stood.
“I prepared one more surprise.”
Mark stared at me.
“What?”
I looked toward the front door.
“My sister is waiting outside.”
His eyebrows pulled together.
“Why?”
“Because I’m not spending tonight here.”
I picked up my coat.
“And neither is the baby.”
For the first time all evening, Mark looked genuinely terrified.
He reached for my hand.
I stepped away.
“Don’t.”
My voice was quiet.
But this time, I wasn’t afraid.
I walked toward the door.
Behind me, I heard Mark say my name.
I didn’t turn around.
Because the hardest part wasn’t leaving.
The hardest part was finally accepting that the man I thought I married had never really left his previous marriage.
And I had spent seven months trying to build a home with someone who was still living in the ruins of another one.
Part 3 — The Truth
Part 3 — The Truth
I thought leaving that night would be the end.
It wasn’t.
It was the beginning.
For the next three days, Mark called constantly.
Twenty-three missed calls the first day.
Seventeen the second.
By the third day, he stopped calling and started sending messages.
Some were angry.
Some were apologetic.
Some were almost desperate.
The strangest one arrived just after midnight.
“Please come home. We need to talk about the baby.”
I stared at the screen for a long time.
Then I put the phone down.
I wasn’t ready to talk.
Not yet.
But on the fourth morning, Mark came to my sister’s house.
I heard him outside before I saw him.
He knocked once.
Then again.
My sister opened the door.
Mark stood there looking exhausted.
He had barely slept.
