She shakes her head slowly.
“That’s cruel, Logan.”
I open my mouth to argue. Then I close it. Because I hear what she’s actually saying.
“I’m not trying to be cruel,” I say finally. “I just… don’t know.”
She nods once, like she expected that.
“Okay,” she says quietly. “Then let’s do this.” Walking to the kitchen table, Jess pulls out a chair and takes a seat.
I follow, but I don’t sit. I stay standing, like I’m on trial.
“Tell me what you imagined telling me,” she says quietly, referencing to what she suggested last night. “I can take it.”
I hesitate.
Not because I don’t have the words.
Because I do.
They’ve been sitting in my throat for months, burning. But saying them out loud makes them permanent. It makes them something I can’t hide behind anger anymore. A part of me wants to protect her from that. Another part wants to protect myself.
She’s right, though.
We can’t keep living like this.
My jaw tightens. I look away for a second, then back at her.
The words come out before I can dull them.
“I hate you.”
Her eyes shatter. But her expression stays steady.
Go on,” she whispers.
“We were happy,” I say, my voice rougher now. “We were so fucking happy. And then you ruined everything. And I hate you for that.”
The words taste bitter.
“What’s worse,” I continue, “is that I still love you. And I don’t know what the hell to do with that. Because every time I look at you, I see him, touching you, kissing you, fucking you.”
Her gaze drops to the table. Shame settles over her features, heavy and quiet.
“And then you hid it,” I say, my voice tightening. “For a year. You let me beg. You let me apologize. You let me think I was the only one who screwed up.”
A hollow laugh escapes me.
“I turned myself inside out trying to fix us. I changed everything. I became whatever you needed me to be.”
I shake my head slowly.
“And the whole time you were laughing at what a cuckhold I was.”
Jess flinches, but she doesn’t interrupt.
“And the worst part?” I swallow. “I still can’t stop loving you. Even after knowing all of it.”
