Twenty Years of Marriage Reduced to One and Two Chapter 07

Twenty Years of Marriage Reduced to One and Two Chapter 07

I turned my head and looked out the window. 

When I spoke, my voice sounded unfamiliar even to me 

-calm, almost detached. 

“Kind of hard not to know, isn’t it?” 

“You gave her the keys to our house. You gave her your project credits. Your institute salary accounts too.” 

“You brought her into our bed. Our couch. Even up 

against the floor–to–ceiling window in our bedroom. Over and over again.” 

“She told me everything. What you like. How many times in one night. Every detail.” 

I let out a silent laugh. 

“And now you’re telling me our child was different?” 

The sound in my throat grew harsher. 

Like I’d just heard the most ridiculous joke in the 

world. 

“Yeah, it is different. Yours with her is love. Mine was 

just… something you got tired of.” 

“No!” 

Alaric’s voice cracked. 

He dropped to his knees beside the bed, eyes red, 

clutching my hand as he tried to explain. 

“Maris, it really was an accident. I didn’t mean for it to turn into this.” 

“That stuff from years ago–I barely even remembered it. When I ran into her again, she looked miserable, full of regret.” 

“She even used her connections to transfer into the institute. One night, I was drugged after a dinner, and that’s how it happened.” 

“Then she got pregnant and wouldn’t let go. I just… kept in contact to keep her stable. That’s why I gave her the credits and the accounts…” 

“The key–I didn’t give it to her. She took it while I was asleep and copied it.” 

He spoke faster and faster, watching my face like his life depended on it. 

When he saw hesitation flicker in my eyes, he pushed 

1. on. 

“Maris, she planned all of this. It’s my fault. If I had been more careful, none of this would’ve happened.” 

“I’ll cut her off. I promise.” 

“The baby… we can have another.” 

“But I can’t lose you. Just recover, and we’ll start over. 

Okay?” 

I turned back to him. Looked at the man I’d known 

since I was fifteen. 

Before he recovered, he’d been distant, emotionally numb–but he never lied. 

Once, I asked him who was cuter–me or the puppy 

outside, and he pointed at the puppy without hesitation. 

Now he was healed, no longer that broken boy. 

Now he was a leading figure in the academic world. 

He gave me status. Money. A comfortable life. 

And lies. 

Nothing but lies. 

The memory of that door slamming echoed in my head. 

It had already split us into two separate worlds. 

I took a slow breath, ignoring the pain, and met his regret–filled eyes. 

“Fine,” I said weakly. “I agree.” 

Then I turned onto my side and closed my eyes. 

“I’m tired. Close the door when you leave.” 

Relief flashed across his face. 

He moved quietly and left the room. 

As the door clicked shut, I opened my eyes, reached for my phone, and sent out everything I had collected- every piece of evidence of his affair. 

The recipient was a journalist a friend had introduced 

me to. 

Back then, it was supposed to be for a feature interview 

about Alaric. 

I didn’t expect the next time I contacted him…it would 

be for this. 

That night, I turned off my phone, locked the door, and 

slept peacefully. 

At six the next morning, loud knocking slammed against the door.