I didn't sit down.
I couldn't.
I looked at Daniel as if he had become a stranger.
"You're telling me you invented an affair?"
He swallowed.
"Yes."
"Why?"
He looked toward the window.
"I thought it would make things easier for you."
I almost laughed again.
"Easier?"
He nodded weakly.
"You would have a reason to leave. You wouldn't spend years wondering whether you had done something wrong."
I stared at him.
"Do you hear yourself?"
He closed his eyes.
"I know how it sounds."
"No, Daniel. You don't."
My voice shook.
"You made me believe I wasn't enough for you. You made me believe there was another woman. You watched me sign divorce papers because of something you made up."
"I know."
"Then you let me keep believing it."
He didn't answer.
I pulled the chair away from the bed and sat down.
My legs were trembling.
"Was there ever anyone?"
"No."
"Not even once?"
"No."
"Then why did you say you were seeing someone?"
He looked at his hands.
For a while, he seemed unable to find the words.
Finally, he said, "Because I had already decided I was leaving."
I frowned.
"Leaving me for what?"
He shook his head.
"Not for someone else."
I waited.
He took a breath.
"I was dealing with something I didn't know how to tell you."
I felt the anger return.
"Something? What does that mean?"
He looked at me.
"I was scared."
I folded my arms.
"Of me?"
"No."
"Then of what?"
He glanced at the door, as if he wanted to make sure nobody was listening.
Then he said, "I had been having medical problems."
I looked at his arm.
At the bruises.
At the hospital bracelet.
My anger didn't disappear, but something else entered the room.
Confusion.
"What kind of medical problems?"
He didn't answer immediately.
"I started getting tired all the time. I was losing weight. I couldn't sleep properly."
"When?"
"Before the divorce."
I stared at him.
"How long before?"
"Several months."
I felt my stomach tighten.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
He gave a small, tired smile.
"Because I didn't want to."
"That isn't an explanation."
"I know."
He looked down again.
"I kept telling myself it was stress. I thought if I ignored it, it would go away."
I remembered those months.
He had stopped eating breakfast.
He sometimes came home and went straight upstairs.
He had complained about headaches.
I had asked whether he was okay.
He always said he was tired.
At the time, I thought he was tired of me.
I had even joked that he seemed to have more energy for his phone than for his family.
He never corrected me.
I pressed my fingers against my forehead.
"Did you go to a doctor?"
He nodded.
"Eventually."
"And?"
He looked at the ceiling.
"They found something."
"What?"
He turned his face toward me.
"I'll explain. I promise."
I stood up again.
"No. You don't get to do that. You don't get to call me here, tell me our entire marriage was built on a lie, and then decide when I get answers."
His breathing became uneven.
A monitor beside the bed changed its rhythm.
I immediately stopped speaking.
A nurse appeared at the door and checked the equipment.
Daniel closed his eyes.
The nurse adjusted something near his arm.
"Try to rest," she told him.
I stepped aside.
When she left, I remained near the window.
I looked at the parking lot below.
Cars moved in and out.
People carried bags.
Someone pushed a wheelchair toward the entrance.
The world continued as if nothing had happened.
But my past was changing in front of me.
I turned back.
"Did you know you were sick when you asked for the divorce?"
Daniel nodded.
"Yes."
The answer landed heavily.
I sat down again.
"How serious?"
He looked at me.
"Serious enough that I thought I needed to make a decision."
"What decision?"
He took a slow breath.
"I thought you and the children would be better off without having to take care of me."
I stared at him.
"You thought leaving your family was better than letting us know?"
He didn't answer.
I shook my head.
"That makes no sense."
"I know."
"Did you think we wouldn't want to help you?"
His eyes filled.
"I thought I would become a burden."
I looked at him for a long time.
I wanted to tell him how selfish that sounded.
I wanted to ask how he could make such a decision for all of us.
But I also remembered the way he had been sitting at the kitchen table five years earlier.
His hands had been locked together.
His eyes had been fixed on the wood.
He had looked frightened.
I had mistaken it for guilt.
Now I wasn't sure.
"Why didn't you just tell me you were sick?" I asked.
He looked away.
"I didn't know how."
I let out a slow breath.
"Fourteen years, Daniel."
He nodded.
"I know."
"Fourteen years, and you couldn't trust me with the truth?"
He began to cry quietly.
I didn't reach for him.
Not yet.
I wasn't ready.
Then he said something that made me stop.
"The first doctor told me there was a chance I could get worse very quickly."
I looked at him.
"And you decided to end our marriage before we even knew what would happen?"
He nodded.
"I thought I was protecting you."
I stared at the hospital blanket.
For five years, I had believed another woman had taken my place.
Now I was hearing that he had pushed me away because he believed illness would take him from us.
I didn't know which part hurt more.
The lie.
Or the fact that he had made the decision alone.
Click here to continue reading: PART 6: The Medical Secret He Carried Into a Small Apartment Instead of Bringing It Home to His Family
The Wednesday Night Daniel Told Me There Was Someone Else, and I Realized Our Marriage Was Already Over
Part 5 of 20
