Page 110 of Unfaithful

It was a quiet evening, just the two of us sitting across from each other in a dimly lit restaurant. He had chosen the place carefully, somewhere intimate but not overwhelming, somewhere that didn't hold memories of what we used to be.

I remembered how he watched me. His eyes searched mine as if trying to find a trace of the love I once had for him.

"I miss you so much," he had said, his voice low and raw. "I never stopped loving you."

There was emotion in his words. Deep, undeniable emotions. And also regret, longing, a promise that he would do better.

But as I sat there, hearing him say it, I wondered... did I miss him too?

I asked myself if I was still angry at him. The betrayal still lingered. I couldn't erase it, nor could I forget how deeply it had cut me. But the anger, the bitterness that once consumed me, had faded. They no longer burned inside me like they used to.

Should I give him another chance?

Was my love for him still as strong as it once was? Or was I merely holding on to the remnants of what we used to be?

At the end of that dinner, he drove me home.

We stood in front of what used to be our house. A place filled with memories, both beautiful and painful. And then he leaned in, brushing his lips against mine. I let him, just for a moment, trying to gauge what I felt, searching for the emotions that once came so easily.

But I didn't kiss him back. I couldn't.

Instead, I stepped away.

That night, I lay in bed, gazing at the ceiling—something that had become a habit lately—my mind consumed by countless thoughts.

Diving into work was the simplest way to escape the weight of the big decisions waiting for me. It kept my mind occupied, allowing me to sidestep the uncertainty and emotions I wasn't ready to confront. As long as I stayed busy—immersed indeadlines and responsibilities—I could delay facing the question of what came next and what I truly wanted in my life.

I considered the idea of being alone. At least for now. And maybe that was okay. I had Emma in my life, and she filled my days with joy, her presence a reminder that I wasn't truly alone. Julian had also become a significant part of my days. He brought a kind of lightness I hadn't realized I needed. With them, I smiled, I laughed. For the first time in a long while, I felt content with my life.

Lately, I had also been spending more time with Maria. We went to yoga more often and worked out together, and somehow, she had influenced me into embracing a more active, healthier lifestyle. Now, I had never felt better.

In the end, you don't need an army of people around you. Just a few who truly matter. The ones who would be there, no matter what.

Cole's parents had finally returned from overseas.

I had spoken to them over the phone a few times, breaking the news of our divorce because I was certain Cole wouldn't bother to do it himself. When they reached out and invited me to lunch one Sunday, I accepted, thinking it would be a simple, cordial meeting.

The food hadn't even arrived yet when Cole's mother, Ivonne, spoke, her tone heavy with expectation.

"Cole told us everything, Sara. All the despicable things he had done. He came clean. And that's a start, isn't it?" she said, her voice softer now, almost pleading. "He regrets it. Truly. And he still loves you."

When I didn't respond, she added, "Can you consider forgiving him, Sara? You were the best thing that ever happenedto him. Look at him now—he's lost so much weight, those dark circles under his eyes... all of this has destroyed him."

It was strange, hearing her speak with such concern about her son. Almost as if she had always been a present, caring mother.

Cole had never been close to his parents. His nanny raised him while his parents traveled the world for business, always too busy and preoccupied. He had no warm childhood memories of them, only expensive gifts sent from distant places and the occasional, detached conversations.

And I wondered if that was why he had clung so tightly to Elena.

"Have you talked to Cole about this?" I asked her, keeping my voice even. "We both agreed to the divorce, and it was a peaceful separation. Neither of us objected."

"You know how Cole is," Ivonne sighed. "It's always been difficult to have a proper conversation with him."

Cole's father, Edwin, said, "It's not unusual for married couples to stray now and then, but what truly matters is finding their way back to each other. Especially for a man. Temptation is always there, and sometimes mistakes happen. But in the end, a strong marriage is about pushing through those moments and choosing to stay together. That's what Ivonne and I did, and here we are, nearly forty years later, still standing. Ivonne was the same—threatening divorce, running off—but she always came back to me."

It was almost amusing—almost. I watched as Ivonne's lips pressed into a thin line, her arms crossing tightly over her chest. Clearly, she didn't appreciate being spoken for, nor did she seem pleased with Edwin's version of their marriage.

I just nodded and forced a smile as I ate my meal. After the lunch ended, I gave them both a hug and promised to keep in contact.

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