Neither of us speaks for a moment. Her cup settles against the saucer, every movement measured.
“I heard you’ve decided to move forward with the divorce,” she says. Her voice is perfectly composed, suggesting concern while carrying a layer of judgment underneath.
I meet her gaze.
“I have,” I answer simply.
She exhales through her nose, setting her cup down with a soft click.
“Cecily, don’t you think this is going too far? You’re acting impulsively, letting emotion dictate something that should never even be on the table.”
“Excuse me?” I ask, my voice calm, though I already know where this is going.
“There has never been a divorce inourfamily,” she continues, stressing the word our as if it’s supposed to holdany authority over me. “Not on Richard’s side. Not on mine. Marriage isn’t something you walk away from because it becomes difficult. It’s something you work through. You talk. You forgive. You rebuild.”
I watch her for a moment, deciding whether to laugh or simply let her finish.
“You think that’s what this is about?” I ask, my tone firm.
“Difficulty?”
Her lips tighten. “I think what happened was regrettable, yes, but still something that can be discussed. You and Colin need time. And perspective. Ending this will destroy more than just your marriage. It will destroy your family’s legacy, your children’s stability,hisreputation.”
She pauses, her gaze sharpening. “Especially after that distasteful article. Now more than ever, you need to present a united front.”
“Barbara,” I interrupt, my tone cold enough to stop her mid-sentence. “This isn’t about reputation. Or family legacy. It’s about what’s left of my sanity. And my children’s peace.”
She studies me for a moment, her expression unreadable, though I catch a brief flash of disapproval in her eyes.
“You’re making a mistake,” she says finally. “People talk. They always will. But this impulsive decision is something you’ll regret once the noise fades.”
I set my cup down on the table with a soft clink that feels louder than it should in a room this quiet. I lean back slightly, clasping my hands in my lap.
“Before I became a mother, your son was the person I loved most in the whole world. More than I ever loved myself.”
My gaze drops to the coffee table. A thin line of steam rises from my abandoned cup.
“OnlyIknow how this feels. OnlyIknow what all of this is costing me.”
The words scrape their way out, soft but unwavering.
“I didn’t wake up the day after discovering he was cheating on me and tell him to leave. It didn’t happen overnight. It was months. Months of my instincts screaming that something was wrong, while your son looked me in the eye and lied.”
I draw a slow breath, forcing my hands to remain motionless in my lap.
“Months of my children waiting for their father to show up, while he… while he never did.”
The memory burns behind my eyelids, vivid and humiliating.
“Between almost knowing, finding the proof, and finally making my decision, nearly a month passed. A month where my mind tortured me with every possible version of staying or letting him go.”
I swallow hard.
“So don’t sit here and tell me I’m being impulsive, Barbara. Because onlyIknow what it’s like to lie down in bed every night, missing someone, only to remember that the same person is the one who broke you.”
She has the decency to stay quiet now, while I lay myself bare like this. I take another breath before continuing, softer this time, but no less firm.
“It’s not about pride. It’s not about being stubborn. After what Colin did, I barely have a thread of dignity left.”
