She cried and said she wished we could start over. I asked whether she meant before the affair or before it was discovered. Sabrina went quiet, and I hated that the question had become one I needed to ask. I ended the call gently and sat on the edge of my bed, looking at the place where she used to leave her slippers.
A few days later Colin sent me an email. It was written in the professional language of a man who wanted a written record of his reasonableness. He expressed regret for any pain associated with personal circumstances and asked me to stop contacting Nora, saying our continued communication was causing distress to his family. He suggested that I had behaved aggressively at the hotel, although he did not describe any aggression beyond arriving unannounced and asking whether my wife was in the room.
Rebecca read the email and recommended a short factual response. I had not threatened him; I was not contacting his employer; I would not discuss his marriage with him; and I would make my own decisions about who I spoke to. I sent it and saved a copy. I did not add the thousand things I wanted to say, beginning with the fact that he had managed to spend months betraying Nora without once worrying about whether it caused distress to his family.
Nora received a similar message from Colin's attorney, framed as a warning that speaking about their marriage with a third party could damage ongoing mediation. Her lawyer explained that she remained free to seek support and to give truthful information when appropriate. Nora told me she had never felt so angry at being instructed to keep a secret she had not chosen to create.
We stopped meeting for a few weeks. Not because Colin had ordered it, but because the simplest way to keep our choices clear was to give ourselves room apart. I spent Christmas with Tessa and her family. Nora spent it with Oliver, her sister, and their parents, while Colin arranged a separate visit with his son according to the plan the adults had agreed upon. I learned to let days pass without checking whether Nora had texted, and to enjoy time with people whose affection for me did not depend on what happened at Room 1012.
On Christmas Eve, my niece asked whether Aunt Sabrina was coming to dinner. Tessa had prepared an explanation about adult schedules, but I asked to answer. I told her Sabrina and I were living in different places for now and that sometimes grown-ups who care about each other have problems they cannot solve quickly. She nodded, thought for a moment, and asked whether that meant she could have the extra gingerbread cookie Sabrina usually claimed.