Audrey paused, wiping her wet cheeks, her chest heaving with the weight of the confession.
"For a few hours, I wasn't a shattered wife," Audrey swore earnestly. "I laughed. I had a nice time. And when the night was over, the thought of walking back into our empty house and crawling into our empty bed made me want to die. So I didn't go home. I spent the night with him."
Simon let out a low, agonizing groan, burying his face in his hands. The humiliation and the profound, soul-crushing sorrow of knowing another man had to scrape his wife off the floor was tearing him apart from the inside out.
"It only happened three times," Audrey told him, her voice completely stripped of ego. "That night, one other time, and then... the night of our first therapy session. When you found us in his car."
Simon’s head snapped up, the agony in his chest suddenly burning too hot to contain. He couldn't stay seated. The visceral image of her willingly going back to another man's bed was suffocating him.
He stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the hardwood floor.
"But why?" Simon choked out, his voice cracking as he started to pace the short span of the Persian rug. He ran a trembling hand through his hair, his breathing turning ragged and frantic. "I understand the first night, Rey. I get that the silence was killing you and you wanted an escape. I deserve that. But why repeat it? Why go back? Why three times?"
He stopped pacing and turned to her, his dark eyes wide and pleading. "Were you trying to build something with him? Do you want a relationship with Nate?"
Audrey looked up at him, her own heart breaking at the sight of his complete unraveling. "I didn't want a relationship, Simon," she said, her voice thick but resolute. "I didn't love him. I was just trying to survive. Every time I had to face you—every time I had to look at the man who blew up my family for an ego trip—I felt like I was suffocating. Going to his car that night after our first therapy session wasn't about starting a new life with Nate. It was about escaping the nightmare you trapped me in. I just wanted to be numb."
Simon stared at her, his chest heaving as the raw, unadulterated truth hit him. The panic and the desperate jealousy were warring violently with his own crippling guilt. He started to pace again, unable to process the adrenaline spiking in his veins.
"Simon," Dr. Thorne's voice cut through the heavy air, calm, deep, and deeply grounding. "Look at me. You're spiraling."
Simon shook his head, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. "I can't... God, I can't breathe."
"Stop pacing," the therapist ordered gently but firmly. "Sit back down on the sofa."
Simon swayed on his feet for a second before his knees gave out. He collapsed back onto the velvet cushions, bending forward as he gasped for air.
"Breathe with me, Simon," Dr. Thorne instructed. "In through your nose for four seconds. Hold it. Now out through your mouth for six."
Simon squeezed his eyes shut and followed the count, his broad shoulders shuddering as he dragged the air into his burning lungs. In. Hold. Out.
He repeated it three times. Slowly, the frantic, defensive panic began to drain out of his system, leaving nothing behind but the heavy, devastating reality of his own actions. The fight completely left his body.
He opened his eyes and looked at Audrey. He was entirely broken.
"I have no right to be angry," Simon wept, the tears tracking hot and fast down his pale cheeks. "I gave up the right to be angry about Nate the second I walked into that hotel room. I forfeited my right to protect you, Rey, because I became the monster you needed protection from."
"It hurt so much to feel like I had to hide him from you, just to protect your feelings," Audrey whispered.
"You shouldn't have had to protect my feelings," Simon cried, his voice dropping to a desperate, raspy plea. "I hate myself for it, Audrey. I will hate myself for the rest of my life because my reckless, pathetic cowardice forced you to find comfort in someone else's arms. I destroyed our home, and I made it a place you couldn't bear to be. I am your husband. I was supposed to be your safe place. And I threw it away."
Dr. Thorne leaned forward slightly. "Simon, can you accept that Nathaniel was a consequence of the fracture in your marriage, and not a weapon Audrey forged against you?"
"Yes," Simon choked out without a second of hesitation. He held Audrey's tear-filled gaze with fierce, unyielding devotion. "I do not blame you, Audrey. You were surviving the apocalypse I caused. And I am so incredibly sorry that I wasn't the man you could turn to when you were hurting."
Simon watched her closely, his heart aching as he saw a massive, suffocating weight physically lift off her shoulders. The rigid tension in her jaw relaxed, and for the first time in weeks, the guarded look in her dark eyes gave way to a profound, unmistakable relief. She had been carrying the secret of Nathaniel like a loaded weapon, terrified it would be the final, unforgivable offense that destroyed them completely. But seeing it out in the open—watching Simon swallow his massive pride, endure the jealousy, and actually validate her pain instead of punishing her for it—had shifted something fundamental in the room. He could see it in the way she exhaled. The ghost of Nathaniel had finally stopped standing between them.
Audrey reached for a tissue, wiping her eyes. She didn't thank him. Instead, she looked at him with a weary, honest clarity.
"Hearing you say that... it shows me that you are genuinely trying," Audrey said, her voice completely exhausted but steady. "I know running to another man wasn't the best way to cope with what was happening to me. It was reckless. But I cannot sit here and tell you that I regret it, Simon. I can't say that I would go back and erase it, because in those moments, it was the only thing keeping me from completely falling apart."
The words felt like a physical blow to Simon's chest. Hearing his wife admit that she didn't regret sleeping with another man was an excruciating, agonizing kind of pain. But what hurt even more—what cut deeper than the jealousy ever could—was the absolute, undeniable truth behind herconfession. He couldn't be angry at her lack of regret, because he knew with sickening certainty that if he hadn't selfishly destroyed their marriage, none of this would have ever happened. He had built the very ledge she had needed saving from.
He offered a slow, heavy nod, accepting the agonizing truth. "I know."
Audrey took a deep breath, the air filling her lungs easier than it had in months. The slate, while deeply scarred, was finally clean.
"Then let's talk about the audio file," Audrey said softly. "And what happens tomorrow, when these ninety days are officially over."
