Page 20 of The Breaking Point

“I want to bash his head in for lying to me for so long.”

He doesn’t flinch. Just sits with it. Just like he’s supposed to.

“That’s understandable,” he says. “You’re holding two truths at once. You love him. You hate what he did. You want to protect your family. You also want justice. Those can coexist. You’re allowed to feel all of it.”

I sit with that. Let it land, even though it hurts. Even though it feels like peeling off a layer of skin just to sit here and talk.

“I think what hurts most,” I say slowly, “is not just that he cheated. It’s that he let me worship him. Let me make excuses for him. Let me build him into something... something golden. Knowing the whole time he didn’t deserve it. And he just... let me keep going.”

Dr. Brett shifts slightly. His voice is soft, curious, but never prying. “How did you worship him?”

I take a breath, staring down at my hands. “I never made him help me. Never even asked for it. Heck, even when he half-heartedly offered, I said no.” A pause. “I let him get away with a lot. Not cheating. But things that chipped away at me slowly.”

He nods, waiting.

“I was always understanding when he cancelled dinner plans, even when I had gotten dressed up. I didn’t yell when he went to the gym after work instead of coming home to help with the kids. I didn’t make a big deal when, for our tenth anniversary, instead of the quiet, cozy dinner I wanted, something just for us,he threw a party. A party with more people than we had at our actual wedding.”

My voice shakes a little, but I keep going. “I told myself he was tired. That he deserved to blow off steam. That I didn’t want to be the nagging wife. So I swallowed it. Over and over, until I stopped noticing I was doing it.”

Dr. Brett leans in just slightly, his expression kind. “And why do you think you did that?”

I blink down at my hands, then back up at him. “I got pregnant at eighteen. I was terrified. I gave him an out, told him he didn’t have to stay, that I’d figure it out somehow. But he stayed. He chose to stay.”

I pause, remembering how big Aiden had seemed back then. How solid.

“And because of that, I felt like I owed him something. Like I had to be grateful forever. He stayed when others wouldn’t have. He married me. He built a life. I thought, this is what love is. Sacrifice. Duty. Doing the hard thing.”

Dr. Brett tilts his head. “So you worshipped him because he stayed.”

I nod. “Yeah. I told myself over and over, he was good. He was kind. He didn’t run. He could’ve had a different life, but he chose me. I repeated that line so often it started sounding holy.”

“And now?”

“Now he’s not that man anymore,” I say. “Or maybe he never was.”

Dr. Brett gives me a moment, then asks, “How has his cheating changed that? He’s still the man who stayed.”

“That’s what I keep thinking,” I say. “He’s still the same guy, technically. Still the father of my kids. Still brings home dinner when I’m too tired to cook. But before… before he was this perfect man in my mind. He loved me. He loved the boys. He worked hard for us, provided when I couldn’t. He was everything. And now…”

I shake my head, throat tight.

“Now he’s flawed,” I whisper. “I can’t stop seeing those flaws. They won’t blur like they used to.”

Dr. Brett folds his hands in his lap. “Maybe what changed isn’t just your view of him. Maybe it’s your view of yourself. You’re allowed to expect more now.”

I look up, surprised.

Dr. Brett continues slowly, “Before he was an image. A mirage you created. And now, he’s real. Human.”

“Yes,” I say, voice catching. “Exactly. And I don’t want the mirage anymore. But I’m also not happy with the scraps.”

Dr. Brett raises an eyebrow gently. “Scraps?”

I lean back into the couch suddenly feeling exhausted. “Yeah. Scraps. The time he gave us, me, the boys, after work, after the gym, after grabbing drinks with his friends. The leftovers. That’s what I got.”

I shake my head, trying not to feel stupid saying it out loud.

“I let him,” I admit. “That’s the worst part. I let him push me to the side. He’d invite other people to dinners that were supposed to be just us. He almost missed the birth of our first child because he turned his phone off. Can you believe that? He said he was in class. I was nineteen, in labour, and calling and calling and nothing.”

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