“I already felt like I was tearing the house apart.”
His voice was quiet.
“Then he told me you’d finally be happy if I disappeared. I thought…” He swallowed. “I thought I was giving you your life back. I wanted to call you.”
He looked down.
“I typed dozens of messages over the years.”
His voice shook.
“I deleted every one before I could press send. Every time I picked up my phone, I heard his words telling me you’d be happier without me.”
My knees gave out.
Before I hit the floor, Andrew caught me.
For the first time in years, my son held me. I buried my face against his shoulder and sobbed.
“You didn’t leave because of me.”
“I never wanted to. I thought you stopped loving me.”
He hugged me tighter.
“I never stopped.”
I cried harder than I had the day my first husband died, because grief was one thing. This was years of love stolen by a lie.
