I had a reason to question what you were doing. I wanted facts instead of accusations. You should have trusted me. I looked at her for a moment. Trust you?
You left this house after telling me I had no right to question your plans. Then you kissed another man and went to a hotel with him. What exactly was I supposed to trust? She opened her mouth, but nothing came out immediately. Then she began pacing around the kitchen.
I made a mistake, Marvin. I know that, but you didn’t have to turn it into this huge investigation. You could have called me. You could have waited until I came home and talked to me like a normal husband. You sent me a message saying you were staying out late.
You didn’t call me. You didn’t explain anything. And when I asked about the party before you left, you treated me like an enemy. Because you were acting like I couldn’t be trusted to go out with my friends. And now I know why.
Her face tightened. That is a horrible thing to say. So was what you did. She stopped pacing and sat down again. This time her voice became quieter.
I never intended for this to happen. The girls were drinking and everyone was having a good time. I met him through one of the women there. We talked and one thing led to another. What's his name?
She hesitated. Brent. How long have you known him? That night was the first time I met him properly. I watched her carefully.
Properly? She looked down at her hands. I'd seen him before. He knows some people in Melissa’s circle. We'd exchanged a few messages in the group chat.
What kind of messages? Nothing important. Then you won't mind explaining them. She shook her head. I don’t have to account for every conversation I’ve ever had.
No, you don’t. But you do have to understand why I’m asking. You told me this was a spontaneous mistake involving a man you barely knew. Now you’re telling me you’d already been communicating with him. It was just conversation, Marvin.
Nothing happened before the party. I didn’t know whether that was true. I hadn’t seen evidence of a longer physical affair, and I wasn’t going to invent one. But her changing explanations weren’t helping her case. Did you intend to meet him that night?
No. Did you arrange to go to the hotel with him? She looked away. I was drunk. I’ve already told you that.
That's not an answer. What do you want me to say? She shouted. That I’m a terrible person. Fine.
I’m a terrible person. Are you happy now? I’m not interested in making you say something dramatic. I’m asking you a straightforward question. She pressed her palms against her eyes.
I don’t remember every detail. Then explain what you do remember. She remained silent. I waited, but she offered nothing more. Finally, I asked.
Do you intend to see Brent again? Her head lifted immediately. Of course not. Then you should have no trouble making that clear to him. You're treating me like a criminal.
No, I’m treating you like someone whose choices have consequences. She began crying again, but this time I noticed that she wasn’t asking what would happen to us or how we might repair the damage. She was asking why I had investigated her, why I had contacted a lawyer, and why I wasn’t willing to move past the incident. Everything seemed to revolve around my response rather than her actions. I had no intention of arguing about the investigator for the rest of the evening.
Whatever she thought of my decision, it didn’t change the photographs or the fact that she had gone to that hotel. I gathered the documents from the table and placed them in a folder. The divorce process is underway, Veronica. I’m not going to withdraw it because you’re upset with me." She wiped her face and stared at me. "So that’s it?
20 years and you just give up?" "No," I replied. "20 years is exactly why I expected more from you." Veronica remained at the kitchen table for several minutes after I finished speaking. She seemed to be waiting for me to soften my position, perhaps to sit beside her and suggest that we could still work through everything. I didn’t. Eventually, she stood and walked toward the bedroom.
I heard drawers opening and closing, followed by the sound of a suitcase being pulled from the closet. I stayed downstairs until she returned with a small bag. "Where am I supposed to go?" she asked. "That's something you'll need to decide. This is my home, too, Marvin.
I understand that. I’m not going to argue with you about your legal rights. Diane is handling the divorce and we’ll follow the proper process, but I don’t see how we can continue living together as though nothing has happened. She looked toward the garage door. And you've already packed my things.
Yes, everything is there, and I’ve tried to make sure nothing gets damaged. You can arrange a time to collect it. She shook her head in disbelief. You've planned all of this. You met a lawyer, packed my belongings, and put everything in boxes before I even got home.
Did you ever consider talking to me first? I considered it. Then I saw the photographs. You keep saying that as though those pictures tell you everything about what happened. They tell me enough about what you chose to do.
She stepped closer to me. What if I told you I would never do anything like that again? What if I promised you that Brent meant nothing to me? I held her gaze. Would you be able to believe me if our positions were reversed?
She looked away. That's different. Why? Because I love you. I took a breath before answering.
"Then you should have acted like it." Her expression changed. The pleading disappeared, replaced by anger. You know what? Maybe this marriage hasn’t been as perfect as you think. Maybe I needed one night away from you to realize how unhappy I’ve been.
Have you been unhappy for 20 years? Don't twist my words. I’m asking a question. She folded her arms. We've had problems.
You work too much. Sometimes you treat everything like a business decision. You never want to do anything spontaneous anymore. If you were unhappy, you could have told me. You could have asked for counseling.
You could have told me you wanted to leave. Instead, you chose to kiss another man and go to a hotel with him. She had no immediate answer. I continued, "You were free to make your own choices that night. I’m not going to pretend I could control you, but I have choices, too." And I’m not obligated to stay married to someone who has betrayed my trust.
Veronica picked up her bag. I can't believe you’re doing this to me. I’m not going to take responsibility for your decision. She walked toward the front door, then stopped with her hand on the handle. For a moment, I thought she might apologize without adding an excuse.