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And I deserve that.
I close my eyes, the truth settling heavy in my chest. I haven't just failed at being a husband. I've failed at being a partner. At being the person who looks at Lindsay Dupree—in all her glittering, unapologetic complexity—and says yes, this is who I choose.
Not for what she can offer.
Not for what she can prevent.
But for who she is.
I open a blank text message. Then close it. This isn't something that can be fixed with words.
This requires action.
