She cried harder.
“And now you want me to act like the only important part is that you eventually came home.”
I loaded the suitcase.
Laura stood beside the car door.
“Please.”
“We can do counseling.”
“Maybe.”
I said.
“Not now.”
“When?”
“I don’t know.”
“I need an answer.”
I laughed quietly.
“You had two weeks.”
“I get more than fifteen minutes.”
She grabbed the car door before I could close it.
“I’m not letting you leave like this.”
“Laura.”
“Please.”
“Move your hand.”
“No.”
“You cannot just walk away from eleven years.”
I stared at her.
“You did.”
She began sobbing again.
“Please don’t say that.”
“It’s true.”
“You walked away for two weeks to see whether another life fit better.”
“I’m allowed to leave this driveway.”
Her hand loosened.
I closed the door.
Drove away.
Chris gave me his spare room.
I told him I would stay three nights.
It became almost two weeks.
Murphy eventually came too.
Laura worked longer hours and said it was easier if I had him.
I suspected the quiet house hurt her.
I did not say that.
My phone became a battlefield.
Laura’s parents called.
Her father was relatively calm.
“Nathan.”
“I’m not defending what she did.”
“I just don’t want you making permanent decisions while angry.”
“I’m not angry.”
That was the truth.
Not anymore.
“I’m hurt.”
“Humiliated.”
“And very clear.”
Her mother was different.
“Marriages survive affairs.”
She said.
“People make mistakes.”
“Laura came home.”
“You’re throwing away nine years because your pride is hurt.”
I ended that conversation quickly.
Megan, Laura’s sister, sent a long message accusing me of refusing to acknowledge Laura’s remorse.
I replied once.
“Remorse does not create an obligation to reconcile.”
Then stopped engaging.
My own mother told me something useful.
She said:
“You don’t have to divorce her because everyone expects it.”
“And you don’t have to stay because everyone expects that either.”
“Figure out which life lets you respect yourself.”
That became the question.
On day eight after leaving, I met a divorce lawyer named David Chen.
I did not hire him immediately.
I told him that.
He said:
“Good.”
“You shouldn’t file merely because you paid for an hour.”
We discussed the house.
Savings.
Retirement accounts.
Debt.
No children.
Murphy.
I felt ridiculous mentioning the dog.
David did not.
“Pets become emotionally significant in divorce.”
He said.
“Who is primary caregiver?”
“Me.”
“Whose name on adoption?”
“Mine.”
“Good.”
The law did not make decisions based on heartbreak.
That was strangely comforting.
Numbers.
Documents.
Ownership.
Equity.
Process.
David explained that because we had been married nine years and both worked, the financial division would be manageable compared with many cases.
The house would either need to be refinanced by one of us or sold.
I left with information.
Not a decision.
For four days, I thought about counseling.
Seriously.
I read about rebuilding after infidelity.
Transparency.
No contact.
Individual therapy.
Couples therapy.