Page 44 of Pretend You Love Me

I knew I had been angry at her for exposing me and furious at myself for giving her something to expose. I knew the twins had changed everything and that I hated myself for ever thinking that like it was an accusation.

I knew I missed Elsie.

Not as the twin’s mother. Not as the person organising bottles and court papers and everyone’s emotional fallout.

As Elsie.

The woman who had once proposed to me with a ring pop because we were in our twenties and broke and she said waiting for me to “get my act together romantically” was ruining her life.

The woman who cried laughing at terrible puns. The woman who built Page & Grounds with Luca because she said books and coffee were the only two legal addictions she personally respected. The woman who used to look at me like I was her home.

She did not look at me like that anymore. That was my fault. And still, some part of me wanted to drag us both backward through time until we were there again.

Before babies. Before the pay cut. Before Jasmine. Before Elsie’s face went flat whenever I entered a room.

“I’ll end it,” I said suddenly.

Elsie just blinked at me.

“All of it,” I continued, stepping closer before I could think better of it. “Whatever you want. I’ll change numbers. Delete everything. Therapy. Counselling. I’ll speak to Clara, your lawyer, or whoever. I’ll do anything.”

Her expression changed at that. Not surprise. I had expected surprise.

Or maybe hope. But there was just… disgust. That made me feel smaller than I had in years.

“Daniel,” she said softly. I hated the softness more than anger. Because softness sounded like goodbye.

“No,” I said, too quickly. “No, don’t do that. Don’t say my name like that.”

Her face crumpled for half a second. Then she pulled it back together, and somehow that hurt more than if she had sobbed.

“I am sad,” she said.

The words were so simple.

“I am so sad I don’t know what to do with it sometimes. I look at you and I remember who I thought you were, and then I remember what you did, and it feels like someone is kicking me.”

My throat tightened.

“But that doesn’t mean I want this back.”

This. Their marriage. Their kitchen. Their life. Me.

I gripped the edge of the bench behind me because if I didn’t hold onto something, I thought I might actually step toward her. Might reach for her like I still had the right.

“You don’t mean that.”

Elsie looked at me then. Really looked. For the first time in days. And the worst part was that there was love in her face. Not the kind I could use. Not the kind that could save me. But something older and exhausted.

“I do.”

The room went quiet except for the refrigerator hum and Milo’s soft breathing.

I nodded once, though I don’t remember deciding to move.

I wanted to say something dignified. Something adult. Something that proved I was not the selfish, weak, humiliating man everyone now thought I was.

Instead, I said, “I’m still not leaving.” Elsie’s expression didn’t change, still full of weariness.