“And you didn’t think to tell me?” Her voice sharpened.
“At the time, I thought it was harmless,” I admitted. “I treated it the same way I talked to William. Just someone from the past.”
She let out a short, disbelieving laugh, shaking her head.
“When did it stop being harmless?” she pressed. “When did it turn into you promising to be there for her?”
I exhaled slowly, forcing myself not to look away.
“After we met again,” I said. “After she started talking about her life... her problems.” I held her gaze. “I was wrong for giving another woman that kind of attention. But it didn’t mean anything to me, Elena.”
“Try reversing it,” she shot back. “Could you say the same thing if I did that to you?”
I didn’t answer. Because she was right, and I hated that I hadn’t even thought that far.
A bitter smile touched her lips. “How many times did you meet her?”
“Three,” I said. “The reunion. When she came to Michigan and Boston.”
Elena let out a humorless laugh. “And by the third meeting you were already sleeping together.”
I didn’t argue. My jaw tightened as I looked down at the table instead of at her.
She shook her head slowly. “Funny,” she murmured. “Four years of dating, and you never once crossed a line. But a few years into marriage...”
Her gaze lifted back to mine. “Or was I just stupid for believing you?”
“You weren’t,” I said immediately, my voice rougher than I intended. “I never meant to betray you. What happened in Boston... that was on me. I messed up.”
“You messed up,” she repeated, the word cutting. “So easy for you to say.”
Silence stretched between us, heavy and sharp.
Then her voice came again. “In Boston...” she asked, her throat tightening, “did you use protection?”
A knot formed in my gut. “God, Elena. Yeah.” I exhaled slowly. “I don’t remember all of it,” I admitted, my voice low. “But there was a condom. I saw the wrapper.”
Shame crawled up my spine. I wished I could erase the entire night just to spare her this question.
“Was it yours? Did you... secretly bring condoms whenever you were out of town?” she asked, her voice thin but steady.
God, I wanted to disappear.
“No, Elena. I don’t carry condoms, you know that,” I said, my voice tightening. “It wasn’t mine. It had to be hers.”
Elena went quiet.
Then she drew in a breath and let it out shakily.
I leaned in slightly, choosing my words carefully. “Elena, you’re exhausted. Let’s go home. You need to rest. For your sake, and for the baby.”
“No,” she said, voice steady. “I need this.Weneed this. This is for me and for the baby too.”
The way she said itmade my chest tighten. It was a reminder of everything I had risked, everything I had almost lost.
I swallowed hard, forcing my voice to stay even. “What else do you want to know?”
Her lips trembled before she spoke, her voice low and breaking apart. “How could you come home to me and pretend that nothing happened?”
