He must’ve arrived sometime after the others.
I say it even after watching and hearing her supposedly unedited video.
Because if I let go of that belief, I don’t know what fills the space it leaves behind.
“That’s a lie, Benjamin,” she says, and her voice isn’t loud—it’s steady.
Controlled.
Worse than if she’d screamed right away.
“I never touched him. I haven’t touched anyone since the day I met you.”
My jaw tightens so hard, it aches.
“Bullshit.”
It comes out automatic. Defensive.
Like if I say it fast enough, hard enough, it’ll still be true.
Her composure snaps.
“It’s the truth, goddamn it!” she shouts, chest heaving now, eyes bright and blazing—and Christ, I hate how much I recognize this version of her. This is the Esme I knew. The one who fought. The one who didn’t shut down and walk away.
The one who stayed.
“But think whatever you want,” she goes on, voice breaking now, emotion cracking through whether she wants it to or not. “I know who I am, and I am not a cheater.”
That last word splinters.
And something in my chest shifts.
Just a fraction.
The silence that follows feels like standing in an open field with a storm rolling in—air heavy, pressure building, lightning waiting to strike.
Behind me, nobody says a damn thing.
Sawyer’s too smart to step into this.
Bit’s too stunned.
Angie’s already clocked that this is old pain, deep pain, the kind you don’t air out in front of strangers.
Micah? He’s quiet—but I can feel him watching. Processing. Filing it away like the tech-head he is.
Esme exhales hard, like she’s wrung out, like she’s done fighting for something I already decided wasn’t worth believing.
“Forget it,” she mutters, shaking her head. “Just have your lawyer review the papers and sign them. I—I can rent a hotel nearby?—”
She says it like she’s already halfway gone.
Like this doesn’t matter.
Like I don’t matter.
Bit cuts in before I can even process the punch that lands low in my gut.
