Page 79 of After Everything
"Angry. Not the burning rage I used to feel. Just this low-level frustration that he gets to apologize and do the work and become someone better, and I'm the one who has to decide what to do with that."
"What else?"
I opened my eyes. "What do you want me to say, Jess?"
"I want you to tell me the truth." Her voice was gentle but firm. "Even if it scares you."
I took a shaky breath. "I felt... something. When he looked at me. When he said he understood what he'd destroyed. When he told me he was proud of me for building my life without him." I put my coffee down because my hands were starting to shake. "And I hate that I felt something. I hate that after three years of being fine, of being over him, one stupid conversation can make me feel... this."
"Feel what?"
"I don't know!" The frustration in myvoice surprised even me. "That's the problem. I don't know what I'm feeling. I don't know if it's just old habit, or if it's actual feelings, or if I'm just confused because he's not the villain anymore and my brain doesn't know how to process that."
Jess was quiet for a moment. "You know what I think?"
"I'm not sure I want to."
"Too bad. I think you're terrified."
I looked at her. "Of what?"
"Of wanting him back." She said it simply, like it was obvious. "Of realizing that you might be able to forgive him. That you might want to try again. Because that would mean risking everything you've rebuilt. And after what you went through, the idea of being vulnerable again… with him, specifically… well, that is fucking terrifying."
My throat tightened. "I'm not?—"
"Emma." She cut me off. "I watched you fall apart. I know what he did to you. I know what it cost you to rebuild." She paused. "But I also see your face right now. And you're not angry that you saw him.You're scared of what it means that you're not angry anymore."
I wanted to argue. To tell her she was wrong, that I was fine, that I didn't want David back.
But the words wouldn't come.
Because she wasn't wrong.
"I don't know if I can do it again," I said quietly. "Be with him. Trust him. Risk it."
"Then don't," Jess said simply. "You don't have to decide anything right now. You don't have to forgive him or trust him or give him another chance. You don't owe him anything."
"But?"
"But." She smiled slightly. "You also don't have to decide right now that you never will. You're allowed to not know. You're allowed to be confused. You're allowed to feel something and not know what to do with it."
I slumped back against the couch. "That's deeply unsatisfying advice."
"I know." She picked up her coffee again. "But it's honest. You don't have to have all the answers today."
We sat in silence for a moment.
"He's been referring DV cases to the clinic for nine months," I said suddenly.
Jess raised an eyebrow. "And?"
"And I knew that. Obviously. I've seen the referrals, worked with his clients. But I never..." I gestured vaguely. "I never let myself think about what that meant. That he was choosing to do that kind of work. Pro bono cases. Helping women who've been betrayed, who need to escape. Women whose partners destroyed their trust."
"What does it mean?"
"I don't know. Maybe nothing. Maybe he's just trying to make himself feel better." I picked at a thread on my running shorts. "Or maybe he really has changed. Maybe he really does understand now what he did."
"And if he has changed?" Jess asked. "What then?"
