“Hi.”
I sat.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then I said:
“I started therapy.”
His eyebrows lifted slightly.
“That’s good.”
“I’m not saying it to manipulate you.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
“I know.”
I took a breath.
“I’ve been doing that a lot.”
“What?”
“Answering accusations you haven’t made.”
He looked down briefly.
“That happened.”
I almost laughed.
Instead, I cried.
Quietly.
I wiped my face.
“I’m sorry.”
Liam said nothing.
“I’m not saying that so you come back.”
He waited.
“I used Julian to provoke you.”
His jaw tightened.
“I know.”
“I didn’t realize I was doing it for a long time.”
“I think you did that night.”
“Yes.”
The word hurt to say.
“I looked at you during the hug.”
“Yes.”
“You saw.”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
Liam nodded.
“Thank you.”
I expected something bigger.
Forgiveness.
Anger.
An opening.
Instead, he accepted the apology exactly as offered.
That was harder.
I asked:
“Did you ever really believe I would cheat on you?”
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
I stared at him.
“Then what were you afraid of?”
“That this would become our life.”
“What?”
“That every disagreement involving Julian would end with me having to choose between silence and being called controlling.”
He looked at me.
“I wasn’t worried you’d sleep with him.”
“I was worried that my emotional safety would always rank below your need to prove independence.”
I swallowed.
“I thought independence meant nobody could tell me what to do.”
“It does.”
He paused.
“But partnership means caring how your choices affect somebody else even when you’re technically allowed to make them.”
I looked out the window.
Joggers passed outside.
Cars moved along the street.
Austin continued existing.
I whispered:
“If I cut Julian off now, would it matter?”
Liam’s face tightened with sadness.
“No.”
The answer was gentle.
That made it worse.
“Why?”
“Because then you’d be doing it to stop the consequence.”
“That doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be real.”
“Maybe not.”
“Then why not try?”
He looked at me for a long time.
“Jessica, I don’t want you to lose a friend because you think it buys me back.”
“I want you to decide for yourself what kind of friendships you want.”
“And I need to decide what kind of relationship I want.”
I already knew the answer.
Still, I asked.
“And you don’t want ours?”
His eyes filled.
“I wanted ours very badly.”
Past tense.
That destroyed me.
I looked down.
“Did you stop loving me?”
“No.”
“Then I don’t understand.”
He rubbed his thumb slowly along the edge of the coffee cup.