“Hadley...”
She lifted a hand gently, not cruelly. Just asking me to let her finish.
“I don’t regret loving you. I don’t regret Asher. I don’t regret fighting for us. But I regret losing myself trying to earn something that should’ve been given freely.”
Tears blurred my vision. “You deserved everything freely. You still do.”
She nodded once, acknowledging it but not accepting it fully.
“I need legal separation,” she said. “Because if you relapse… if you spiral… if the band life pulls you back into chaos… I can’t drown with you again. I have a son now. I have Eli. I have myself. I have to be strong enough to walk away without it destroying me.”
I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, staring at the floor.
“I hate hearing that,” I admitted hoarsely. “Not because it isn’t true. Because it is. And I built that fear inside you.”
Silence filled the room again. Asher made a soft snorting sound in his sleep.
Hadley watched him, voice quieter now.
“I still love you,” she whispered.
My head snapped up.
Her eyes filled with tears instantly, like the words scared her too.
“I probably always will. That’s the problem. Because loving you makes me forget to protect myself.”
My throat closed. “You shouldn’t have to choose between those two things.”
“No,” she agreed. “And divorce gives me the ability not to.”
I nodded slowly, wiping my face with both hands.
“I don’t want to lose you,” I admitted. “But I’d rather lose the title of husband than lose the chance to be in your life at all. Or Asher’s.”
Her shoulders dropped slightly, relief flickering across her face.
“That’s… mature,” she said quietly. “Thank you for not fighting me on it.”
“I want to fight for you,” I said. “Not fight against what you need to heal.”
She looked at me then, really looked, like she was searching for the truth inside that statement.
After a moment, she nodded.
“But,” she continued, voice steadier now, “I don’t want to cut you out. You’re his father. And… you’re still important to me whether I like it or not.”
My chest tightened painfully. “I’ll take that. I’ll take any role you give me.”
“I want us to be partners,” she said. “Just… different partners. Parents first. Friends if we can manage it.”
I let out a shaky breath. “Friends feels like both a blessing and a punishment.”
She gave a small sad smile. “It’s probably both.”
“How does that look?” I asked quietly. “Tell me what you need from me. Spell it out. I want to do it right this time.”
She thought carefully before answering, and I could see the maturity in her eyes, not anger, not revenge, just boundaries.
