Oliver’s expression turned to shock. “What?” My voice trembled as tears streamed down my cheeks. “Oliver, I said… I want a divorce.” In that moment, the years we had shared hung heavy between us, allowing him to grasp the weight of my words without further explanation. His gaze flicked to the open cabinet door, landing on the suit that had shifted position. Tentatively, he reached into the pocket, and with each step he took, despair and fear deepened in his eyes, filling the space between us with unspoken sorrow.
He approached me slowly, kneeling at my feet with palpable remorse. “I’m sorry, Lisa. I’m so sorry.” His voice trembled as he continued, “I... I swear, it only happened this once. I never expected it…"
“Which time?” I asked, my tone steady.
“On our anniversary, I drank too much. I was just so happy, so incredibly happy that we’ve been together for ten years.” He lowered his head, hurriedly defending himself. “I mistook her for you. I truly regret it! I was just too scared to tell you, afraid you’d be angry.”
“It’s okay. I’ve done worse things than this,” I replied, my heart heavy with the weight of our shared history.
Oliver’s eyes widened in shock. “What?”
I shook my head, forcing a sincere smile despite the ache in my chest. “I stayed home and chose to trust you.”
In that moment, the gravity of my own words struck me like a painful reminder of the loyalty I had shown him. Trust, once broken, becomes fragile, and I fought to cling to its remnants as I searched his pleading gaze for a glimmer of the man I once loved—the man I believed he could still be.
