Page 93 of My Husband’s New Fiancée

Back then, this was always how we handled difficult conversations.

First, we found each other again.

Then we talked.

We let silence settle between us until breathing became easier again.

We gave our hearts time to beat at the same rhythm before trying to understand each other.

Except this time, nothing settles.

Our ritual no longer works.

The bond between us has been broken.

I no longer feel the peace I once felt in his presence.

No matter how much I want to, nothing feels the same anymore.

Is there even anything left to save between us?

I don’t know.

He takes my empty cup and sets it beside his before enclosing my fingers between his warm hands.

It’s strange, because his touch soothes me as much as it hurts me. But I don’t pull away, aware that we have to start somewhere.

“I ended things with Bianca because the moment you came back, I no longer felt free to love another woman. Maybe our marriage no longer exists on paper. But to me...” His voice lowers. “You never stopped being my wife.”

My heart cracks open.

His eyes shine.

Too much.

He looks away for a few seconds.

Then faces me again.

“Despite acting like a complete asshole... despite kissing her in front of you just to provoke you... despite all the venom I spat at you...” His voice falters. “I haven’t been able to touch her since you came back.”

A sob escapes me.

He brushes a strand of hair behind my ear.

“I know everything is complicated. You don’t erase two years of absence and pain with the snap of your fingers. But there’s only you.”

His voice breaks.

“There’s only ever been you.”

I cling to his hands with desperate strength.

And that’s when I fully realize how close I came to losing him forever.

How close we came to losing each other.

We remain holding onto one another like two shipwreck survivors clinging to the same lifeline.