He goes still. “She?”
I smile wistfully. “I don’t actually know if it was a boy orgirl, I just always thought of her as a girl.” My heart drums in my ears as I reach into my pocket and pull out the ultrasound photo, my hand trembling slightly as I offer it to him. “This is for you. I’m sorry it took me so long to share it with you.”
He takes the thin piece of paper like he’s in a trance, his fingers closing around it gingerly. It’s worn now, softened by age and curled at the edges, the ink faded, but he regards it reverently, his gaze fixed on it with unwavering intensity. For a long moment he just stares, his throat working, before he pinches the corners of his eyes, and his shoulders begin to shake.
It’s startling, seeing him break down like this. It reminds me of the night he found out his mom was sick, only that was a cruel twist of fate, no one’s fault. This time, his devastation is mine to own. I could have prevented this. I could have been honest with him all those years ago, could have stayed and walked through the fire together. Instead I ran away, making him a casualty of my grief. I know how betrayed I would feel if the roles were reversed, the resentment I’d harbor if he’d kept something this monumental from me, if he’d disappeared with no explanation. I’m not sure I’d ever be able to look at him the same way, let alone open my heart to him again. Maybe the damage is done. Maybe I’m looking at someone who will never forgive me.
“Yesterday you told me how much you regret walking out the door of that hotel room,” I force out, urgency tightening my chest. “Well, my biggest regret is not calling you from the hospital. That’s my what-if, Ry. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wondered where we’d be if I had. I’d do anything to go back and make a different choice.”
His eyes are red-rimmed when he finally turns to look at me. “I wish you had.”
“I almost reached out to you once,” I say softly, the memory surfacing with a heavy tug in my chest, “when your mom passed.” I remember the indecision that had gripped me, how frozen I’d felt, and goose bumps prickle my arms beneath the sleeves of my sweatshirt. “But it felt like I’d waited too long. I didn’t know if you’d even want to hear from me, or if it would just make things worse.” I pause, choosing my next words carefully. It’s the part of our history I’ve always tried to block out, and I don’t want to rub salt in his wounds. “Stories about you had started popping up in the news by then, and I wasn’t sure which version of you I’d find. I didn’t feel strong enough to find out.”
His shoulders stiffen, bunching tight under my hand.
“I hate that I let your mom down,” I whisper, tears stinging my eyes. “I promised her I’d take care of you, and then I left you to face everything alone. I hate that I wasn’t there when you needed me. It makes me sick to think about.”
He stays motionless beneath my hand, trapped in a heaviness I can’t lift, and desperation takes hold inside me.
“You always said I was so strong, but I wasn’t, Ry. I was young and overwhelmed and heartbroken. For a long time, I couldn’t see past my own pain. It took everything I had to dig myself out.” My voice wavers, trembling under the weight of everything I’ve kept locked away. “And I know that doesn’t excuse what I did. But when I said you don’t know me anymore, it’s because I became someone else that night. Losing the baby, losing you at the same time—it changed me. It’s like a part of me broke and never fully healed.”
He stays silent, and the longer it stretches, the more unbearable it becomes. I’ve never felt so powerless. I used to find comfort in the quiet with him, but now it feels like a wall I can’t break through.
I take his hands in mine, forcing him to look at me. His haunted expression is a thorn piercing deep, and shame spreads through me like poison. “I wanted you to understand why, but the only thing that matters now is how sorry I am. You deserved to know, and I never should have made that choice for you. I told myself I was protecting you, but I was really protecting myself. And I’m so sorry for that, Ry. If the situation was reversed, if you’d left me in the dark about something this big, I don’t know how I’d move past it. It’s unforgivable.” In that single word, I’m voicing my worst fear.
“Unforgivable.” He finally speaks, echoing the word in a flat, lifeless tone. His face is shadowed as he rubs his eyes. “You’re right.”
Cold dread trickles through my veins like ice water. “I’m right?”
“It is unforgivable.” He lets out a hollow laugh. “Only it’s not you who needs to be forgiven. It’s me.”
I blink like I misheard him. “What…what are you talking about?”
“What exactly should I be forgiving you for, Scarlett? For being forced to make impossible choices on your own because I left you to fend for yourself? For protecting our child the best way you knew how? For protectingyourselffrom a version of me who might’ve made it worse?” He shakes his head, remorse etched into every line on his face. “No. What’s unforgivable is that I’d become someone you couldn’t rely on. That I was sowrapped up in my own shit that you didn’t even feel like you couldtellme. I was so fucking selfish that I didn’t even know anything was wrong.” He’s breathing hard, his chest rising and falling like he’s run a marathon.
Now I’m the one shaking my head. “I won’t let you take the blame for this,” I tell him, pressing a fist to my ribs, trying to hold back the guilt cratering my chest. This is my sin, and I won’t let him absolve me. “Whatever mistakes you think you made, this was on me.”
But he won’t accept the pardon. “For ten years I thought you rejected me, that you didn’t feel I was worth sticking around for. I thought you abandoned me just like everyone else. I’ve beenmadat you. When all along you…I can’t believe I…” The self-loathing in his voice makes me sick to my stomach. His eyes are distant and unfocused, and he’s staring past me like I’m not even here. “You were sick that night and Iyelledat you. I probably did cause it. You were right to hate me.”
“Please don’t do this. I can’t listen to you blame yourself for something I did. I’ve already spent ten years punishing myself, I won’t let you do it too.” I can feel everything escalating, can feel myself becoming hysterical, my skin heating and my voice pitching higher, words flooding out in a rush as panic claws at me. “At some point, it has to be enough. There has to be an end point for all this guilt Ry, therehasto be. This can’t destroy us again. I won’t let it!” A strangled sob rips out of me, my chest heaving as the tears I’ve fought to keep at bay spill over.
Before I can spiral any further, his hands are on my shoulders, pulling me to him, enveloping me in his arms. “Scarlett, stop. Shh,” he murmurs into my hair. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’ve got you.”
I sag against him and bury my face in his chest, my wholebody shaking, my breath sawing in and out in ragged gasps. It’s a dam finally giving way after ten years of pressure, all my emotions erupting in one violent release.
He holds me there until my breathing slows and evens out. When I finally pull back, I’m embarrassed by my outburst. I hijacked a moment that should have belonged to him. “I’m sorry,” I mutter, swiping at my tears. My hand comes away streaked with mascara, which I now notice is all over his dress shirt.What a mess.I shudder to think what I must look like.
“It’s fine,” he says, sensing my agitation. “And how about no more ‘sorry’s, okay? I can’t handle you apologizing the same way you can’t handle it from me.”
I give him the barest nod, then gently disentangle myself from his arms to head to the kitchen and splash some water on my face. As I clean myself up, I watch him out of the corner of my eye. He’s picked up the ultrasound again, studying it with an intensity that makes my throat tighten, like he’s trying to memorize every detail.
It’s turned to twilight outside, the sky fading to a dusky purple, casting the room in a lavender haze. Shadows shift and stretch across the wood floors as a stillness settles over the house. I make my way back over to the couch and he rises, sliding the ultrasound picture into his pocket.
“What are you thinking?” I venture, trying to read what’s written behind his eyes.
He blows out a long, slow breath. “Honestly? I’m thinking…I need some air.”
Fear coils beneath my ribs. “Of course,” I manage to say, with effort. “I can imagine you’d need some time to think about all this.”
