Nathan had expected to feel devastated.
Instead, he felt exhausted in a way he had never experienced before, as though he had been carrying something heavy for so long that putting it down had left his muscles aching.
Near midnight, Eleanor brought him a spare blanket.
He was sitting on the living-room sofa, staring at a photograph of his father.
“Can I ask you something?” he said.
“Of course.”
“Did Dad ever disappoint you?”
Eleanor sat beside him.
She studied the photograph.
“Oh, many times.”
Nathan gave a faint smile.
“He forgot our anniversary once. Bought an old fishing boat without asking me. And for nearly six months, he insisted the roof wasn’t leaking while we had a bucket in the hallway.”
Nathan laughed despite himself.
“But he never made me feel foolish for being hurt,” Eleanor continued. “When I told him something mattered, even if he didn’t understand it, he listened.”
She paused.
“Marriage isn’t two people who never make mistakes. It’s two people who can admit when they’ve made them.”
Nathan looked down.
“I think I knew Vanessa wasn’t right for me.”
Eleanor said nothing.
“I kept telling myself she’d change after the wedding. After we bought a house. After we had children.”
He swallowed.
“But I was afraid that leaving meant admitting I’d wasted three years.”
Eleanor gently touched his hand.
“Three years is a painful thing to lose.”
She looked toward his father’s photograph.
“But it’s better than losing the rest of your life.”
Nathan leaned against her shoulder.
For the first time since childhood, he allowed himself to cry without trying to hide it.
Eleanor held him until the room grew quiet.
The next morning brought consequences.
