Page 41 of Pretend You Love Me

“I didn’t mean…“ he starts, then stops again. “It wasn’t about you. It was never about you. It was just…“ He shrugs, the gesture somehow containing an entire universe of feeling. “Things were just so hard when you were expecting the twins. You were so tired all the time. And I just…“ Another shrug, more complicated than the first. “I needed something that was just mine. Something that wasn’t about being a father or a husband or any of the other things everyone needs from me all the time.”

I watch him without speaking, noting the tone of his voice, but it’s not an apology, not even close. It’s an excuse. He continues without prompting, his words coming faster now, tumbling over each other in their hurry to reach the surface.

“I know it was wrong. I know that. And I’m sorry. God, Elsie, I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I never meant for any of this to happen. I just…“ He stops, his face arranged in an expression I’ve never seen before, it’s hard to read, it definitely doesn’t seem genuine to me though. “I’ll stop. I’ll end it. All of it. Whatever you want. Whatever it takes. Just…please. Don’t do this. Don’t throw everything away because of one mistake.”

I set my tea down with careful attention, keeping my movements slow and deliberate. “It is over Daniel,” I tell him, my voice even. “It was over the second your dick decided to wander away from home.”

His face drains of colour. “You said you have a lawyer,” he says, as though just realising that I am serious. “You’ve already spoken to a lawyer.”

“I have proof of all your endeavours,” I continue with light sarcastic emphasis on endeavours.

“Wait,” he says, already reaching for a different approach. “You’re not…you can’t just…“ He stops, the sentence suddenly impossible to finish. “This is our house. Our family. You can’t just decide to end it without even talking to me first.”

“I’m not leaving the house,” I tell him simply. “The twins need stability. This is their home. I’ve already discussed it with Clara. The mortgage is in both our names, but I’ve been making the payments since you took the pay cut at your firm. I have records. Bank statements. Everything dated and organized by month.”

His expression drops again, and for a moment, just a moment, I see what’s happening: Daniel is watching his life collapse in real time, and he has absolutely no idea how to stop it.

“You’ve been planning this,” he says, the words coming out slightly uneven. “You’ve been meeting with lawyers and gathering evidence“ He stops, the sentence suddenly impossible to finish. “You’ve been pretending this whole time?”

I laugh despite myself, a short, dark sound that seems to surprise even me. “Yes,” I say simply. “That’s what I’ve been doing.”

He stares at me for a long moment. This is Daniel. This is who he actually is. Not the man I thought I married or the father I hoped he’d be, but something more complicated, a person capable of both kindness that I fell in love with and the betrayal that’s ending our marriage. Not a monster or a saint or any of the other simple categories we create to make sense of difficult people, but a human being who made choices, repeatedly, deliberately, that cannot be undone.

“Mum thinks we should handle this privately,” he says finally. “She says family matters should stay in the family. That we should talk before we make any decisions we can’t take back.”

“Your mother,” I tell him, already moving toward the door, “thinks everything should be handled privately. Even when privacy is just another word for hiding.”

I slip past him, done with this conversation and head for the stairs.

“You can see yourself out Daniel.” I call over my shoulder.

“I’m not leaving Els, we need to fix this.” he calls out desperately.

I sigh and feel the full weight of the day land on my shoulders. “There is nothing left to fix Daniel, please just go.” I almost whisper.

Daniel seems to find his anger at that. “No, this is my house too, I’m not leaving.”

I briefly close my eyes and hold back the tears that seem to be pricking the back of my eyes.

I half turn to him and nod. “You can stay in the spare room then.” And without giving him a chance to reply, I disappear upstairs.

The nursery is as I left it. The twins sleep peacefully in their cribs.

I stand between their beds for a long moment. Keeping the tears at bay. Wishing we could go back to before he started everything and work out what went wrong.

But there is no coming back from this. I slowly ease the nursery door shut.

When I get into my room, my phone starts to buzz. I answer without thinking, my thumb moving across the screen, phone already at my ear before my brain can catch up with what’s happening.

“Elsie,” Henry says, his voice sounds genuinely tired. “It’s Henry. I hope it’s not too late to call.”

“It’s fine,” I say automatically. “I’m up. The twins are finally down, but I’m up.”

There’s a moment of silence, not awkward or expectant, and then Henry says, his voice low enough that only I can hear it: “I believe you.”

“Thank you,” I say, the tears already clogging my throat.

“You and those babies will always have my support,” he continues, his voice comforting. “Whatever happens next. Whatever you decide to do. That doesn’t change.”