“How?”
Sarah hesitated.
“How did you support me?”
Silence.
I continued.
“What was the thing I wanted to build last year?”
She blinked.
“What?”
“I told you about a project.”
“A small managed IT service for independent clinics.”
“You said you’d look at my pricing model.”
Sarah stared.
“I don’t remember.”
“I know.”
That hurt her more than anything else I had said.
“I knew every gallery deadline you had.”
“Every lens you wanted.”
“Every photographer you admired.”
“Every client who underpaid you.”
“You didn’t know the one thing I was dreaming about.”
“Mark.”
“I helped build your life so thoroughly that both of us forgot I had one.”
She began crying harder.
“I can change.”
“I hope you do.”
“With me.”
“No.”
“Please.”
“No.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
“How?”
“Because I had six months without you.”
Sarah flinched.
“And?”
“I like who I am now.”
“That doesn’t mean we couldn’t—”
“I am not the person you left.”
My voice remained calm.
“That person thought love meant making himself useful enough that somebody would stay.”
“I don’t believe that anymore.”
“I built a life that does not require me to earn my place every morning.”
“I’m not giving that up.”
“You wouldn’t have to.”
“I would.”
“Because I would become responsible for whether you were okay again.”
“No, you wouldn’t.”
“You’re standing outside my apartment because another man broke your heart.”
She had no answer.
I continued.
“If Alex had proposed to you instead of Chloe.”
“Would you be here?”
Sarah looked away.
That was the answer.
“Sarah.”
She started:
“I don’t know.”
“I do.”
“If he had chosen you, you would never have looked back.”
“That’s not fair.”
“It is not cruel.”
“It is accurate.”
“He didn’t choose you.”
“Now suddenly the life you called a stage looks valuable again.”
“I cannot be your proof that you are still lovable.”
“You have to build that without me.”
Sarah leaned against the hallway wall.
For several seconds, she simply cried.
Not theatrically.
Not loudly.
I felt compassion.
That was the strangest part.
I did not hate her.
I did not want her ruined.
I wanted her to survive this.
Grow.
Become kinder.
Love someone well someday.
I just did not want to be that someone.
“I have nothing.”
She whispered.
I looked at her.
“You have yourself.”
“That doesn’t feel like enough.”
“It wasn’t enough for me either at first.”
“How did you do it?”
I thought about the empty apartment.
Running at night.
Marcus.
Therapy.
Work.
Silence.
Anger.
The first peaceful Saturday morning when I realized I had not thought about her until noon.
“Slowly.”
I said.
“I don’t know how.”
“You learn.”
“I’m scared.”
“I know.”
She looked at me.
“Can I at least come inside tonight?”
“No.”
Her face fell.