Because she was my friend. I stood. She wasn't asking you to keep a harmless secret. Melissa lowered her eyes. You're right.
I left without saying anything else. By then, I had everything I needed. Christine had lied about Ryan. Ryan had confirmed the affair. Melissa had confirmed that the secret was deliberate, and the messages proved something even worse.
Christine hadn't made one drunken mistake 5 months before. She had been making choices long before that night. And now I was going home to ask her why she thought I deserved to marry her without knowing any of it. When I got home that night, Christine was sitting at the kitchen table waiting for me. She stood as soon as I walked through the door.
Where were you? Out. With who? I put my keys down. Ryan.
Her face went pale. You met him? Yes. Why would you do that? Because you wouldn't tell me the truth.
She stared at me. What did he say? Everything. She sat back down. I remained standing.
He told me you slept with him at your bachelorette party. Christine covered her mouth. Joshua Don't. She lowered her hand. I was going to tell you.
When? I don't know. After our first anniversary? She started crying. It was one time.
You've said that before. And it was. No, it wasn't. She looked confused. I slept with him once at the party.
You also had a relationship with him before we met. Her expression changed. Ryan told you that? He showed me the messages. She went completely silent.
I pulled out my phone and placed it on the table. I saw what you sent him the night before our wedding. She shook her head. Those messages weren't serious. You told him you wished things were different.
I was emotional. And he told you they didn't have to be. Christine looked down. I didn't answer him. But you married me?
Yes. While keeping him in your life. She began crying harder. I loved you. Maybe you did.
She looked up. Maybe? I don't know what your version of love is anymore. That hurt her. I could see it.
But I wasn't interested in making her feel better. I spoke to my attorney. Her eyes widened. You actually hired one? Yes.
You're really doing this? I'm moving forward with a divorce. She stood. No. It's already started.
You can't just decide that. I can decide what I do with my marriage. She walked toward me. Please don't throw away 5 months. I looked at her.
You think I'm throwing away 5 months? She stopped. I'm dealing with what happened before those 5 months even began. She wiped her face. What do you want me to do?
Move out. Her mouth fell open. This is my home, too. I know. So, you're kicking me out?
No, I'm asking you to leave while we work through the separation. Where am I supposed to go? Your sisters, your parents, a hotel, I don't care. She stared at me. You've become so cold.
No. I shook my head. I've become clear. She packed a suitcase that night. Before she left, she stopped near the front door.
Is there anything I can say that will change your mind? I thought about it. No. She nodded slowly. Then, she walked out.
The divorce process was not dramatic. There were forms, meetings, financial documents, and discussions about the house. Susan handled most of the communication, so Christine and I didn't have to keep reopening the same wounds. Christine initially fought the divorce. She sent long messages through mutual friends.
She apologized. She promised counseling. She said Ryan meant nothing. Then, she said Ryan had manipulated her. Then, she blamed the alcohol.
Every explanation changed except one thing. She still wanted me to stay. I refused. The biggest surprise came 3 weeks later. Christine discovered that several of her closest friends had known about Ryan before our wedding.
Not just Melissa. Two others had seen them together months earlier. She confronted them. They admitted it. Their friendships began falling apart.
I didn't celebrate that. I didn't contact them. I didn't tell anyone what happened. I simply kept moving forward. One afternoon, Christine called me directly.
I lost almost everyone. I was silent. Do you care? I care that you're hurting. Then, come back.
I can't. Why? Because even if I came back, I'd always wonder what else you never told me. She started crying. I've told you everything now.
Maybe. Joshua, I have to go. Please. I ended the call. The next morning, Susan called me.
The paperwork is moving forward. I looked around the house. For the first time since I had seen that video, the place felt quiet. Not empty. Quiet.
And I realized something. Christine had spent months protecting a secret. I had spent weeks trying to understand it. Now I didn't need to understand every detail anymore. I only needed to finish what I had started.
The divorce was finalized 4 months after I found the video. By then, Christine and I barely spoke. Most communication went through Susan, especially when we were dealing with the house and the remaining financial details. There were disagreements, but nothing that turned into the kind of battle people expect when a marriage ends badly. I wanted a clean separation.
Christine wanted more time. But time wasn't going to change what had happened. The house was sold. We divided the proceeds according to what we had contributed and what our attorneys agreed was appropriate. We closed the joint accounts, separated the remaining bills, and signed the final documents.
When I walked out of the courthouse that afternoon, I expected to feel something dramatic. I didn't. I felt tired. That was all. 5 months of marriage had ended almost as quickly as they had begun.
The next few months were strangely peaceful. I went back to work. I spent more time with my brother, Patrick, and stopped answering questions from people who wanted details about the divorce. I didn't post anything online. I didn't expose Christine.
I didn't tell everyone what she had done. She had made her choices. I didn't need an audience for mine. About 6 months after the divorce, I received a message from an unfamiliar number. It was Christine.
I know you don't want to hear from me, but I need to say something. I stared at the screen. I almost deleted it. Instead, I replied. Say it.