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‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘But again, that is not love.’
That hurt. She blinked away from him, a frown line forming between her brows. ‘Can you really say that everything we share is just sex?’
He hesitated and for a moment, she had hope. But then he nodded, once.
‘So how come we walk like this together each morning? How come we talk about anything and everything that comes to mind? How come you took me to see the fireflies?’
He ground his teeth together, his eyes pleading with her. ‘Again, treating you with decency is not love. If I wanted to atone for the way things started between us, then that should be seen as an attempt to improve our relationship, for the sake of our children, nothing else.’
Her lips parted. ‘So all of this is, what? Guilt?’
He expelled a harsh breath. ‘I wouldn’t have put it so crudely.’
She closed her eyes as pain washed over her. ‘I’m not asking you for a declaration of love. I just need to know that you’re not so broken by what Fatima did that you will never love. I need to know that you’re open to loving me.’
He didn’t answer. She opened her eyes, trying to read his face, and understanding nothing.
‘And that’s what I have been trying to tell you all along. I’m not open to loving anyone. Nor do I believe it’s necessary. As I have said, numerous times, we can have a great marriage without that sort of emotional complication.’
‘Because of sex,’ she whispered.
‘Sex, yes. Children. Shared interests. Respect.’
‘But not love?’
‘No.’
‘Never love,’ she repeated, for her own benefit more than his, wrapping her arms around her chest and stepping out of the shade of the tree. It didn’t improve her temperature; she felt iced to the core.
‘I’m sorry.’ His voice was soft, coming from right behind her. ‘I should have been clearer.’
‘You were plenty clear,’ she corrected. ‘I just didn’t believe you.’
They were silent, staring at each other for several long moments.
‘This is the last thing I want,’ he said, taking a step towards her. ‘I don’t want you to be hurt any more. What can I do to fix this?’
Her smile was a ghostly impersonation. ‘Nothing. You feel as you feel. I just need to learn to accept it.’
She went to walk away but he caught her wrist, spinning her back to him. ‘You’ll realise that I’m right soon enough. You’ll realise that your love for me is an illusion. And I’ll be glad when that day comes.’
She nodded awkwardly, tears filming her eyes as she spun away. She knew he was wrong—she would never stop loving him. But she also knew he’d never return it, and suddenly the future seemed desperately bleak. They were getting married, and she faced the prospect of walking down the aisle towards a groom who would never be able to give her the one thing she’d always known she wanted. Leaving him was not an option. Not because of the babies, not because of sex, but because she did love him, with all her heart, and she would do anything to be with him, even if there was torture in that togetherness, because he’d never love her back.
