PART 13 – Daniel Finally Looked Me in the Eyes, and I Realized the Confession I Remembered Was Only One Part of His Story

Daniel took another breath.

I waited for him to continue.

He looked at me differently now.

There was less hesitation in his expression, although he still seemed unsure how I would react.

"I know you remember that Wednesday night."

I nodded.

"I remember every minute."

He looked down.

"I've thought about it more times than you can imagine."

I didn't answer.

He continued.

"When I told you there was someone else, I knew what you would think."

I folded my arms.

"Then you knew exactly how much it would hurt."

He nodded.

"I did."

I looked away.

It was difficult to listen to him admit that.

I had spent five years thinking the confession had been an unfortunate truth.

Now he was telling me it had been something he deliberately chose to say.

I asked whether he had considered telling me the truth before we signed the divorce papers.

He nodded.

"Several times."

"Why didn't you?"

He looked at the ceiling.

"Every time I thought about telling you, I convinced myself it would make things worse."

I shook my head.

"Worse than what?"

He didn't answer immediately.

I waited.

He looked back at me.

"I thought you needed to move on without me."

I felt a familiar frustration.

He was still talking about what he thought I needed.

He had never asked me.

He had never given me the chance to decide.

"You keep saying you knew what was best for me."

He lowered his eyes.

"I know."

"But you never asked me what I wanted."

"No."

"Why?"

He seemed unable to answer.

I sat back.

The hospital chair made a small sound against the floor.

I remembered sitting in another chair during the divorce proceedings.

I remembered looking at documents and signing where I was told to sign.

Daniel had been quiet then too.

I had thought his silence meant he was finished with us.

Now I wondered whether he had been rehearsing the same explanation he was giving me.

I asked him whether he had ever regretted not speaking during those meetings.

He nodded.

"Yes."

I looked at him.

"Every time?"

"Every time."

I didn't know what to do with that answer.

It was possible to regret something and still refuse to change it.

Daniel had done exactly that.

He had allowed the divorce to continue.

He had moved out.

He had lived alone.

And he had watched five years pass without correcting the story he had created.

I couldn't pretend that was a small mistake.

I looked at his hands.

They were resting on the blanket again.

The hospital light made them look almost colorless.

I remembered those same hands signing papers during the divorce.

I remembered how quickly he had agreed to the arrangements.

At the time, I had felt victorious in a way I wasn't proud of.

I thought he was getting what he deserved.

I had wanted him to understand what he was losing.

Now I wondered whether he had understood all along.

"Did you ever think I might have forgiven you?"

He looked at me.

"I didn't think I deserved that."

I swallowed.

That was the first answer that sounded completely honest.

I looked down at my lap.

For a moment, I couldn't speak.

I had spent five years believing he had never wanted forgiveness because he had never wanted me.

Apparently, he had simply decided that forgiveness wasn't something he could ask for.

But that still didn't explain the lie.

I turned toward him.

"Daniel, there is something you still haven't told me."

He nodded slowly.

I continued.

"You've explained that you wanted me to leave. You've explained that you didn't want me waiting for you. But you haven't explained why you thought lying about another woman was the only way."

He closed his eyes.

I waited.

And I realized that the answer I needed was still somewhere between us.

Click here to continue reading: PART 14: I Had Accepted His Silence as Rejection for Five Years, but Now I Wanted to Know What Had Made Him So Afraid