Page 113 of Absolution

Her eyebrows shoot up. “I didn’t know there was a deal.”

“I know that now,” I say quickly. “But back then? I was flying high. When people were losing jobs, I got promoted. I was providing. I thought… Ithoughtthat’s what made a good man. And you couldn’t even stay home.”

Her mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

“I thought you were like my mom,” I say. “So, I made myself stop caring. It was easier. Cleaner. You were with your siblings and I-”

“Iwashealing,” she says. “I was surviving.”

“I know,” I say. “Iknowthat now. But I was too far gone. When you came back, I couldn’t flip the switch. Couldn’t make myself feel what I was supposed to.”

She wraps her arms tighter around herself, like she’s shielding herself.

“There weren’t any women then. Not until after the vasectomy.”

Her head snaps up.

“There were only two,” I say. “I know that sounds like an excuse. It is. But in those years, I felt like I was still flying, and you were just… still.”

Jackie exhales slowly. “So, because I stopped moving, you found people who made you feel like you were?”

“I didn’t even like them,” I admit. “It wasn’t about them. It was about me. About feeling seen. Feeling… not resentful.”

“Because I wasn’t what you envisioned?” Her voice cracks. “Because we had a sick child?”

I shut my eyes. “I know how that sounds.”

“No,” she says. “Youdon’t. You can’t.”

“If you had just left,” she says, “I could’ve rebuilt. But you stayed. You kissed me. Slept next to me. Lied to me foryears. Mademefeel like the problem.”

“I know,” I say again, quieter this time.

Her lips press into a tight line. “That’s the worst part, Kyle. Not the cheating. Not even the lying. It’s the gaslighting. The way you made me think I was crazy for being unhappy.”

Tears prick the corners of my eyes. I don’t wipe them away.

“And you know what really kills me?” she says, voice rough. “If you’d just told me then… I might’ve forgiven you.”

I look up at her. “But I didn’t,” I say softly.

She nods. “No. You didn’t even give me a choice.”

There’s a long, aching pause.

“And now,” she says, her voice trembling, “I don’t know where we go from here.”

We sit in silence, the weight of it pressing down. Dr. Nina doesn’t speak right away; she lets it breathe.

“You don’t have to know today,” she says finally, voice even. “This isn’t about deciding the rest of your life in this room. It’s just about telling the truth, and letting it sit.”

Jackie swallows hard. She doesn’t look at me, but she doesn’t move away either.

“I’m not here to ask for another chance,” I say. “Not today. I know I’ve used up every benefit of the doubt.”

Jackie shifts slightly.

“I just didn’t want to leave things with you thinking it wasyou,” I go on. “That it was your fault. Because it wasn’t. Not one bit.”

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