Page 58 of The Breaking Point

He’s crying now. No sobs, just tears. Slow and silent.

“I didn’t wanther. I just wanted to forget. And I messed up everything.”

The room goes quiet. Dr. Claudia doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t offer a tissue.

Doesn’t lean forward with a follow-up question. Doesn’t fill the silence. She just lets it hang there, wide, still, heavy with everything that can’t be fixed in one session.

Aiden’s shoulders rise and fall with each breath; his eyes fixed on a spot on the rug. Mine are locked on him.

I don’t know what I expected. A lie, maybe. Or a half-truth. Something that would make it easier to keep being angry. To stay wrapped in the hurt I’ve carried for so long.

But not this. Nothim, broken open like this, bleeding out all the things I never knew were hiding underneath his silence.

I want to say something. Anything. But for the first time in a long time, I don’t have the words. So I just sit there.

Next to the man who betrayed me. Next to the boy who wanted his father. Next to the truth, which is somehow more painful than the lie I’d been telling myself.

The clock ticks on the wall. Aiden wipes his face, like he’s embarrassed to be seen this way.

Dr. Claudia finally speaks, her voice soft but steady. “I want to honour the courage it took for you to say all of that, Aiden.”

She lets the words land, then turns slightly, her gaze flicking to me. “And Kate… I can feel how heavy that was to hear. You don’tneed to respond right now. You’re allowed to take a moment. Both of you are.”

Another pause. Then, still calm, still quiet: “What you’re sitting in right now, that’s grief. Grief for what happened, for whatcouldhave happened. For the people you were then. For the pain that was never spoken aloud until now.”

She looks between us, no judgment in her eyes. “This isn’t about justifying what Aiden did. It’s not about erasing the damage. It’s about understanding the cracks that formed beneath the surface. Because healing doesn’t come from pretending the hurt didn’t happen. It comes from facing it together, honestly, even when it’s messy.”

She leans back slightly. “So let’s stay with this. Just for a little while. You’re safe here.”

Aiden shifts beside me, like her words gave him permission to breathe. His hand is resting between us on the couch, close but not touching. I don’t move. Not yet.

I nod once, barely. My throat feels tight. “It’s just… I’ve been telling myself a version of that night that made sense. That kept me from falling apart. I thought if I could blame the alcohol, or the pressure, or the fact that you didn’t really want to marry me… then maybe I could keep loving you without hating myself for it.”

Aiden’s voice is low, wrecked. “I hate that I gave you that story to carry.”

I glance at him. “It wasn’t all you. I was the one who held on to it.”

He shakes his head. “You shouldn’t have had to.”

Dr. Claudia lets the silence stretch again. Then, soft and steady: “What would it look like to let go of the version that protected you… and make room for the truth?”

I don’t answer right away. I stare at my hands. At the ring I still haven’t taken off. “I don’t know,” I whisper. “I feel like a failure. I was so scared of losing him that I never asked… never even tried.”

Aiden’s hand shifts slightly, brushing mine. He doesn’t take it. Just lets it be there. An offer. A presence.

Dr. Claudia nods, slow and gentle, like she’s handling something fragile. “It’s not failure,” she says. “It’s survival. Sometimes we love so hard, we forget to look closely. Because if we did… we might have to face things we’re not ready for.”

I feel that in my chest, like pressure behind my ribs. The kind that’s been building for years, maybe.

Aiden speaks without looking at me. “I should’ve told you about my dad. I should’ve told you everything.” His voice is rough, like it scrapes on the way out. “But I didn’t know how. I barely understood it myself.”

“I get it,” I say. And I do. That’s the hard part. I wish I didn’t. I wish I could hate him clean. But the truth is messy, and it sounds a lot like my own silence. My own fear.

I finally look at him. “What now?”

He looks back at me. No defences. No spin. Just eyes I’ve known forever, and a hurt we’re still learning how to name.

“I don’t know,” he says honestly. “But I want to try. If you’ll let me.”

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