PART 17 – I Had Waited Five Years to Hear the Truth, but Daniel’s Next Words Made Me Question Everything I Thought I Knew

Daniel looked at me.

His breathing was slow, and his voice had become quieter.

I moved the chair closer to the bed.

I didn't want him to feel he had to raise his voice.

For several minutes, he said nothing.

Then he finally spoke.

"I know I made a terrible decision."

I nodded.

"You did."

He looked down.

"I thought I was doing what was best."

I felt the familiar frustration return.

"Daniel, you keep saying that. But you still haven't explained what you thought was going to happen."

He closed his eyes.

I waited.

He seemed to be trying to find a way to explain something he had avoided for years.

"I didn't want you spending your life waiting for me."

I frowned.

"Waiting for you to do what?"

He looked at me.

"To become the person you deserved."

I stared at him.

I had no idea what he meant.

I thought about our marriage.

I thought about the ordinary arguments, the responsibilities, and the years we had spent raising our children.

I hadn't considered myself someone who was waiting for Daniel to become a different person.

I had wanted a husband who spoke honestly.

Someone who shared his worries.

Someone who allowed me to be part of the decisions affecting our family.

That didn't seem unreasonable.

I told him so.

"I never asked you to be perfect."

He nodded.

"I know."

"I wanted you to talk to me."

"I know."

"Then why did you decide I was better off without you?"

He looked away.

I could see his eyes filling again.

For a moment, I thought he might finally answer.

Instead, he asked me something.

"Have you been happy?"

I wasn't expecting that question.

I looked at him.

"What?"

"Since the divorce. Have you been happy?"

I considered giving him a simple answer.

But I didn't.

There had been good days.

There had been difficult days.

There had been moments when I felt proud of the life I had rebuilt.

There had also been nights when I wondered how fourteen years could end with so little explanation.

"I've managed."

He nodded.

I continued.

"The children are growing up. We have a home. I've done what I needed to do."

He looked at me.

"That's good."

I studied his face.

I wondered whether he had imagined me struggling.

Perhaps he had convinced himself that leaving was the kindest thing he could do.

But I had never asked him to make that choice.

I asked him whether he had been happy.

He gave a small shake of his head.

"Not in the way I thought I would be."

I looked at him.

There was no satisfaction in hearing that.

I didn't feel victorious.

I simply felt sad.

I remembered the apartment across town.

The small place where he had lived alone.

I remembered him arriving at family occasions and leaving early.

I had thought he was eager to get away from us.

Now I wondered whether he had simply never found a way to feel at home anywhere else.

I asked whether he had kept any photographs from our marriage.

He looked at me.

"A few."

That surprised me.

"Which ones?"

He gave a faint smile.

"Mostly pictures of the children."

I nodded.

That sounded like Daniel.

I thought about the family photographs still sitting in a drawer at home.

There were pictures from birthdays and holidays.

Pictures of all of us together before the divorce.

I had never thrown them away.

I hadn't displayed them either.

They were simply there.

I wondered whether he had kept similar memories in his apartment.

Then I remembered why I was there.

"Daniel, I need you to stop asking me questions and answer mine."

He nodded.

I looked directly at him.

"What were you so afraid of telling me?"

His expression changed.

He seemed to understand that I wasn't going to accept another general answer.

He looked toward the window.

Then he turned back.

"I was afraid you would blame yourself."

I felt my stomach tighten.

"Blame myself for what?"

He didn't answer immediately.

I watched him carefully.

For the first time, I began to understand that his lie might have been connected to something he believed I would never forgive myself for.

I leaned forward.

"Daniel?"

He looked at me.

And this time, I didn't look away.

Click here to continue reading: PART 18: The Truth Was No Longer About Another Woman, but About the Things Daniel Believed I Would Never Understand