"Yes. You should." He looked uncomfortable. "Barry, I know there’s no point in trying to explain myself tonight. But I really am sorry." Don't bother. I don't want another explanation or another apology.
As far as I'm concerned, you're no longer part of my life. He lowered his eyes. "We’re cousins. We’ve known each other our entire lives." That makes what you did even worse. You knew exactly who I was and you knew exactly what you were doing.
George didn't respond. He walked toward the front door and I watched him leave. My father shook his head in disbelief. I never thought George was capable of something like this. Neither did I, I replied.
After a few minutes, the rest of the family began leaving. Some offered me their support, while others simply shook their heads and avoided looking at Vivian. Her parents stayed behind for a little longer, but eventually they also decided to go. When the front door closed for the last time, only Vivian and I remained. She stood in the living room looking at the photographs scattered across the coffee table.
"What happens now?" she asked quietly. The divorce continues. "Barry, please. We can go to counseling. We can take some time apart.
We don’t have to make a permanent decision tonight." I've already made my decision. She started crying again. Where am I supposed to go? You can stay with your parents temporarily while you make arrangements. But I want you to start organizing your belongings and arrange to leave the house.
We'll handle the property and everything else through our attorneys. She looked at me with disbelief. "You’re telling me to leave my own home?" I'm telling you that I don't want to continue living together as a married couple. I'm not going to change the locks or throw your belongings outside. We'll follow the legal arrangements, but I want us to begin separating our lives.
"After eight years, this is how you’re treating me?" I looked at her. After 8 years, this is what you've chosen to do to our marriage. She sat down on the sofa and covered her face with both hands. I didn't feel any satisfaction watching her cry. I had never imagined our marriage ending this way, and I certainly hadn't expected to discover that my own cousin was involved.
But I wasn't going to let the length of our marriage become a reason to accept what had happened. "Barry, I really did love you," she said after a while. I looked at her. "Then you should have acted like it." She didn't answer. That night, I took a pillow and blanket into the guest bedroom.
I had no intention of sharing our bed with her, and I wanted some distance before the next steps began. The following morning, I contacted my attorney and explained what had happened during the dinner. He advised me on the proper arrangements for our separation and the next stages of the divorce. Vivian eventually went to stay with her parents while we worked through the practical details. For the first time in 8 years, I was living in the house alone.
It was quiet, but I didn't feel the need to fill that silence by calling her or asking her to come back. The marriage was over even if the legal process still had some time to go. The weeks following Vivian's departure were difficult, but not for the reasons I had expected. I wasn't constantly angry, and I didn't spend my days thinking about George. What bothered me most was adjusting to a life that had suddenly become very different.
For 8 years, Vivian had been part of my daily routine. Now I came home to an empty house, prepared dinner for one, and spent my evenings doing things without having to consider someone else's plans. The divorce proceedings continued, and most of our communication became limited to practical matters handled through our attorneys. George, meanwhile, had become a subject nobody in my family wanted to discuss. My parents were furious with him, and several relatives stopped inviting him to gatherings.
He eventually tried contacting me twice, but I ignored both attempts. I had nothing left to say to him. About a month after Vivian moved out, she sent me a message asking whether we could meet for coffee. I initially considered ignoring it, but I agreed because I wanted to hear what she had to say. We met at a quiet cafe in the downtown area.
She looked tired. After ordering coffee, she sat across from me and stared at her cup for several seconds. "I've been thinking about everything," she finally said. "I know I hurt you, Barry. I know I destroyed your trust, and I’m sorry." I nodded, but didn't respond.
"George kept telling me things would be different. He made me believe he understood me better than anyone. I made a terrible decision, and now I’ve lost everything." I looked at her. "You didn’t lose everything because of George. You made your own choices." "I know." "Do you?
Because every time we've talked about this, you've found someone or something else to blame. She wiped her eyes. "I wish I could go back and change that night." That night wasn't the beginning, Vivian. You were seeing him before the party. You lied to me repeatedly, and you continued doing it because you thought I would never find out.
She looked down. "I really did love you." Maybe you did. But love without honesty and respect isn't enough to keep a marriage together. She remained silent for a moment. "Is there absolutely no chance we could start over?" I shook my head.
No. I've thought about it, and my decision hasn't changed. She nodded slowly. We finished our coffee without saying much more. And then I left.
The divorce was finalized several months later. The legal arrangements were completed, our shared property was divided according to the agreement, and we went our separate ways. I eventually settled into a new routine. I spent more time with my parents, reconnected with a few friends I hadn't seen regularly, and started making plans that had nothing to do with my former marriage. I never received a meaningful apology from George.
Eventually, I stopped wondering whether he regretted what he had done. As for Vivian, I heard through mutual acquaintances that she was living on her own and trying to rebuild her life. I didn't wish her harm, but I no longer felt responsible for what happened to her. Looking back, I sometimes remembered the argument before that party. Vivian had accused me of trying to control her and insisted she was free to make her own decisions.
She was right. She was free to go wherever she wanted, spend time with whoever she wanted, and make whatever choices she believed were worth making. But I was equally free to decide that I didn't want to remain married to someone who had betrayed me. And once I understood that, there was nothing left to discuss.