“I’m sorry.”
I nodded.
Jenna hugged me without asking.
Priya squeezed my shoulder.
Tessa, the woman who had suggested the dare, approached last.
Her face was pale.
“I didn’t know.”
I believed her.
“I thought they were just flirting.”
I looked at her.
“That should have been enough.”
She lowered her eyes.
“You’re right.”
Then she left.
Within ten minutes, the house was empty.
Music off.
Half-drunk glasses everywhere.
Cake untouched on the island.
Silver wrapping paper on the floor.
Melissa stood in the kitchen.
I stood near the living room.
For the first time all night, there was no audience.
She looked much smaller.
“Please tell me you haven’t filed anything.”
“Not yet.”
Her shoulders dropped slightly.
Relief.
That hurt too.
“Then we can fix this.”
“No.”
“You just said you haven’t filed.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m undecided.”
Melissa stepped closer.
“Michael, I made a mistake.”
“Five months is not a mistake.”
“It wasn’t five months like that.”
“Then what was it?”
She wiped tears from her face.
“It started emotionally.”
“When?”
“I don’t know.”
“You know.”
She closed her eyes.
“June.”
It was November.
“What happened in June?”
“We worked late on the Mason account.”
“He started talking to me.”
“I felt…”
She stopped.
“What?”
“Seen.”
I almost laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because the word had become one of those convenient terms people used to make betrayal sound like self-discovery.
“I didn’t see you?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“It’s what you meant.”
“You were always tired.”
“So were you.”
“You stopped wanting to go out.”
“I asked you to do things.”
“You planned everything.”
“I’m sorry my calendar destroyed our marriage.”
“See?”
Her voice rose.
“That’s exactly what I mean.”
“You turn everything into sarcasm instead of admitting something was wrong.”
I went quiet.
Because that part contained truth.
Not justification.
Truth.
I had withdrawn.
I had become predictable.
Work had consumed me.
There were evenings when Melissa tried to talk and I answered emails.
Weekends I chose home because I was exhausted.
I had mistaken stability for intimacy.
Those failures belonged to me.
The affair did not.
“Our marriage had problems,” I said.
“Yes.”
“I own my part.”
Melissa nodded quickly.
“Then you understand.”
“No.”
Her face changed.
“I understand being lonely.”
“I understand being frustrated.”
“I understand falling out of love.”
“I understand wanting counseling.”
“I understand asking for a separation.”
“I even understand leaving me.”
I pointed toward the photograph.
“I do not understand lying to me while doing this.”
She looked down.
“You humiliated me tonight because you thought I would never leave.”
“That wasn’t—”
“It was.”
She said nothing.
“I asked you one week ago if you would create distance from Ryan because the relationship was damaging our marriage.”
“You refused.”
“I didn’t know you had the photo.”