The realization they’d spent months united in something I hadn’t even known divided us.
Eventually, Chloe entered the elevator.
Before the doors closed, she said, “He needed someone who would listen.”
I faced Ethan.
“So did I.”
The doors shut.
Ethan stood motionless for several seconds.
His eyes settled on the wedding ring atop the bedroom dresser.
“You found it.”
“It wasn’t hidden.”
He approached it.
I remained where I stood.
“Why did you take it off?”
He sighed.
“People kept asking where you were whenever we went out.”
“And that bothered you?”
“I didn’t want to explain my marriage every time.”
“So you removed the part that made them ask.”
He rubbed his face.
“Chloe said if I wanted one night where nobody asked questions, I should just leave it at home.”
I stared.
“She told you to take off your wedding ring?”
“She didn’t tell me to cheat.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
He looked down.
“She said it shouldn’t matter if I wasn’t doing anything wrong.”
“And you agreed.”
“I took it off, Madison. Me.”
At least he accepted that responsibility.
He disappeared into the bedroom.
Twenty minutes later, he returned with another suitcase.
His expression had softened.
He set the luggage by the door.
“I found the anniversary card.”
Our second anniversary.
I’d written that marrying him made everywhere feel like home.
“I didn’t realize you kept it.”
“I keep everything you write me.”
“Why?”
He laughed bitterly.
“Because I’m apparently not the monster you’ve decided I am.”
“I never called you a monster.”
“You packed my clothes.”
“You keep returning to that.”
“Because it was cruel.”
“Then what would have been kind?”
“Talking to me.”
“I tried for six months.”
“No. You tried to manage me.”
I considered arguing.
Instead, I answered, “Okay.”
He blinked.
“Okay?”
“If that’s how you experienced it, then okay.”
“You don’t agree.”
“I don’t have to agree with every part of your version to hear it.”
He walked toward the windows.
“I used to admire how calm you were.”
“Used to?”
“Then it started making me feel insane.”
I waited.
“Every argument, you stay controlled. I get emotional and suddenly I’m the unreasonable one.”
“I never said that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Again, what he imagined I meant mattered more than my actual words.
“Is that what Chloe tells you?”
He turned sharply.
“Don’t blame her.”
“I’m not.”
“You sound like you are.”
“I’m asking how much of our marriage she knows.”
He remained silent.
I tried another approach.
“Tell me what you wanted from me.”
“What?”
“Not what you hated. Not what you felt trapped by. What did you actually want?”
He opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
“More spontaneity,” he finally said.
“Okay.”
“And space.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
“What else?”
His shoulders sagged.
“I wanted to feel chosen.”
That surprised me.
“Ethan, I married you.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
I nearly argued.
Then stopped.
Perhaps to him, it wasn’t.
“Everything became automatic,” he said. “I knew you’d be here. I knew you’d come home. I knew you’d remember my birthday. I knew you’d make plans. I knew you’d handle things.”
“You resented me because you could rely on me?”
“I didn’t say it made sense.”
For once, he wasn’t defending himself.
“I stopped seeing those things as love. They just became… there.”
Like furniture.
That reminded me how I’d felt the previous night.
Like furniture myself.
Apparently, we’d made each other feel invisible in different ways.
“And Chloe?”
His jaw tightened.
“What about her?”
“Why did she know all of this before I did?”
Silence.
“Why did she know you were unhappy before your wife knew?”
“I talked to her.”
“How often?”
“I don’t know.”
“After our arguments?”
His silence answered.
I moved closer.
“When something went wrong at work, who did you text first?”
He looked away.
“Ethan.”
“Sometimes Chloe.”
“When we fought, who did you call?”
He answered quietly.
“Chloe.”
“Who knew you felt trapped?”
No answer.
“Who knew you were tired of being married before I knew?”
