Page 17 of Open Secrets
“Bye, Lyle,” she whispered.
My throat burned, but I managed it back, quiet. “Bye, Maria.”
Chapter Five
Maria – Present
I laugh, shaking my head. “Did you ever think we’d end up here?”
I expect him to laugh with me, to meet me in the absurdity of it, but he doesn’t. His mouth pulls tight instead. “Yeah.” He shrugs once, firm. “What happened that day… it just solidified the fact that I’d marry you someday.”
The words catch me off guard, soften something inside me. I smile, small, wistful. “Did you think we’d be here like this though?”
He shakes his head. “I thought you wanted this. Needed it.”
I look away, blinking hard as the sting builds. My head tilts, hair falling forward, a shield for my face. “I made a mistake with Sascha. It never should’ve happened, and in my regret I…” My voice trails, breaking. I drag my sleeve across my cheek, wiping the tear before it falls.
“Hey.” His voice pulls me back, low and steady, like a tether I don’t know if I want to grab.
I glance at him, bracing, afraid of what I’ll see in his eyes.
He doesn’t flinch. “I forgave you. For him.” His hand shifts closer, wrapping around mine. “Doesn’t change the fact that—” He cuts himself off.
“I cheated,” I finish for him, the word burning in my mouth.
His grip tightens, then falters. “You didn’t cheat,” he says, but the conviction is gone.
“Almost did,” I admit, voice cracking. “I told myself it came out of nowhere but truth is—"
He rips his hand from mine like I burned him, standing fast. “Can we not talk about this?”
I rise too, anger flaring. “You always do this. You’re not even willing to listen to why I—”
“Why you fell in love with another man?” His voice slices through me, sharp and jagged.
I draw a breath, steadying, tears blurring the edges of the room. “I didn’t fall in love. He was there for me.”
“Oh, he was there,” Lyle scoffs, venom in every syllable. “There for you while I was out fighting for our country.”
I scoff back, the sound bitter, broken. “Some good that did.”
His head jerks, eyes narrowing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I shake my head, “Forget it.”
“No, tell me.”
I laugh, hollow, furious. “You weren’t there when I begged the fucking Army to save our child. And they said no.”
His face hardens, voice dripping bitterness. “They told you experimental treatment wasn’t covered.”
“God, you’re still defending them?” My voice shatters into a scream, all the years spilling out. “Our child had leukaemia, Lyle. The only thing that saved her was the gene therapy. And I paid for it. Not the Army. Not you. Me.”
He flinches like I slapped him, but the anger flares back just as fast. “I was trying to keep a roof over our heads! Trying to keep my rank, keep my benefits, so that maybe—maybe—we could survive more than a month at a time. You think it was easy for me? Watching from a thousand miles away while my daughter fought for her life?”
“You didn’t watch,” I spit, the words sharp as glass. “You missed birthdays, chemo sessions, the nights she cried herself to sleep. I held her. I carried her. I watched her throw up until her little body shook. And you sent postcards and pay checks like that was the same thing.”
He shakes his head, voice breaking around the edges. “You think I don’t hate myself for not being there? You think I didn’t lose sleep thinking my daughter might—” He cuts himself off, fists clenching at his sides.
