She was always quiet about her pain, controlled and composed. She wore it like armor.
And now that it had cracked, it was as if everything underneath had been rotting for years.
“Probably because she hid it well,” I said finally. “Or maybe because we didn’t look close enough.”
“What are you going to do now, Cam?” Caroline asked.
“I’m going to stay with her,” I said, determined. “Until she doesn’t need me anymore.”
“Sloane’s taking a month off, and I had to fight Robert for that. And now you want to take leave too? How am I supposed to explain that to our CMO?”
I sighed. “I don’t know, Car. I can’t really think straight right now. If I lose my job, then so be it.”
Caroline went silent for a moment. “Alright. I’ll see what I can do. Keep me posted on Sloane, okay? I’m worried here.” She paused. “Are you going to tell Mom?”
“If Sloane is okay with it, I probably will,” I said. “Sloane loves Mom. Maybe being with her will help in some way.”
“I agree,” Caroline said. “I have to go. Call me as soon as you can, okay?”
“Okay,” I said.
Then I saw Sloane walking toward me down the hallway, looking utterly exhausted. I jumped up from my seat and went to her.
“I want to go home,” she said softly. “Take me home.”
Sloane moved through the days quietly, but something had shifted. She was beginning to talk more.
She told me about her therapy sessions.
On that first day, she couldn’t get a single word out. She just sat there, frozen.
And to her surprise, the therapist hadn’t pushed.
“He said he didn’t expect me to talk about it yet,” she told me. “That we’d go slow. Build trust first.”
I saw it then—the way her shoulders eased a little just from saying that out loud. Relief.
I stayed with her almost every single minute of the day. I slept beside her, sat next to her, careful not to move too much, afraid of breaking the fragile calm. She was there physically, but her mind was still miles away, lost in a place I couldn’t reach.
Then, when she couldn’t see me, panic would hit her like a wave. She would call my name, her voice trembling with fear and desperation. I’d rush to her side, take her hand gently, and whisper, “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
She held onto me like I was the only real thing left, her grip tight and desperate. In those moments, all I could do was be present until she found a little peace inside all the chaos.
Harper brought light into the dark days with her endless chatter and giggles. Slowly, I saw Sloane’s smile return—small, fragile, but real. Whenever she held Harper, calm would settle over her face, a brief moment of peace in the storm.
At the next therapy session, while waiting, I approached the receptionist and said, “I need a session. I need to talk to someone. I want to know how to help my wife.”
The clinic was very helpful, especially Caroline’s friend, Burke Kensington, the owner, who quickly arranged a session for me the following week.
But later that day, something unexpected happened—something I hadn’t even realized I’d forgotten in the midst of everything else.
I received a text from my lawyer:
“The court has approved your divorce. You both are officially divorced now.”
Chapter Nineteen
Sloane
