“Yes.”
“Of losing the boys?”
“Yes.”
“Of facing me?”
He whispered.
“Yes.”
I nodded.
“That is the first honest answer.”
He looked at me.
“I thought about coming back every day.”
“Thinking is not coming back.”
“I know.”
“You let me mourn you.”
“I know.”
“You let me collect life insurance.”
“I know.”
“You let your daughters grow up without a father.”
He covered his face.
I waited.
Then he said.
“I’m sorry.”
I believed he was sorry.
That did not repair anything.
I said.
“I forgive you someday.”
He looked up.
“Someday?”
“Maybe.”
“But I will never be your wife again.”
His eyes closed.
“I know.”
That was the last private conversation we ever had.
The boys maintained different relationships with him.
Caleb barely spoke to him.
He felt used most directly.
Mason wrote letters.
Angry ones.
Jacob wanted answers.
Children do not process betrayal uniformly.
I let them choose.
No one forced forgiveness.
That mattered.
Six years after the bo
