“You told me your intention before you left. The choice itself mattered.”
“That's not fair.”
“Neither was asking me to remain married while you tested whether you'd prefer somebody else.”
She began pacing between the sofa and the fireplace. The anger on her face gave way to a puzzled, almost injured expression. “I thought you were stronger than this.”
“What does strength look like to you?”
“Not giving up on someone you love over a mistake.”
“A mistake is something that happens before you fully understand the consequences. You packed, explained your plan, listened to me tell you the consequences, and left anyway.”
“You keep repeating that because you don't want to hear anything else.”
“I keep repeating it because you keep pretending it didn't happen.”
Natalie crossed her arms. “I had dates. I talked to people. I tried to remember who I was before everything became work, bills, and responsibility. You can't understand that?”
“I can understand being unhappy. I can understand wanting a different life. What I can't understand is why you expected to leave me standing on the sidelines until you decided whether I was still useful.”
Her eyes filled. I felt my own chest tighten in response, the old instinct to move toward her almost overwhelming. I had comforted that face through every kind of pain. Seeing tears still made me want to reach out, even when I knew exactly what had caused them. I clasped my hands together and stayed where I was.
“I didn't think you'd actually divorce me,” she whispered.
“I know.”
“Do you hear yourself?”
“Yes. For the first time in a while, I think I do.”