Page 58 of The Space He Left
As I drove home, I found myself thinking about the conversation, about the Jack I'd just talked to versus the Jack who'd left me for Madison. This Jack seemed more thoughtful, more aware of his impact on others, more interested in doing right than in being seen as right.
It seemed like Jack had genuinely learned from his mistakes. And maybe, I realized, I was able to see his growth because I had been doing my own work, too.
I thought of my own early sessions with my therapist, Anya. I’d gone in consumed by a rage so total it felt like it would burn me alive. I’d confessed to her about the legal letter, the shame of it hot in my throat.
Anya had been quiet for a moment. “What you did,” she’d said carefully, “was use the only tool you felt you had left to create a boundary. You were in an immense amount of pain, and your instinct was to build a wall to protect yourself and Emma. It's an understandable reaction to trauma, Harper. There is no shame in why you built it.”
She had paused, her gaze kind but firm. “And the most important thing to remember is that you didn't do anything that can't be undone. A letter can be rescinded. Rules can bechanged. A wall built in a moment of crisis isn't always the right long-term structure. The question now isn't about judging the past. It's about deciding what you want for the future. You get to decide if that wall still serves you, or if you're ready to build a gate.”
This conversation felt like opening a gate. And Jack wasn't trying to storm through it. He was just standing on the other side, respectfully, waiting.
That evening, after Emma was asleep, I called Sam.
"Hey, Harper. Everything okay?"
"I talked to Jack today. About the groceries and the bills he's been paying."
"Ah. I wondered when you'd figure that out."
"You knew?"
"Not all the details, but I knew he was trying to do the right thing without making it obvious."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Sam was quiet for a moment. "I thought you needed to discover it on your own, to see what kind of man he's becoming when he's doing things quietly behind the scenes."
"And what kind of man is that?"
There was a long silence. "That's not for me to say, Harper," Sam said finally. "Those were his actions, and this is your decision."
I absorbed this information, trying to reconcile it with my image of Jack with what he'd done. I'd read the Reddit post Mrs. Patterson had shown around town about Madison's pattern with other men, and seeing how completely Jack had been manipulated made his betrayal feel less personal, though no less painful. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't blaming Madison for what happened. Madison was responsible for her actions, but Jack was responsible for his.
"Sam, do you think people can really change? Fundamentally change, not just temporarily?"
"I think some people can. When they're motivated enough and when they're willing to do the hard work of looking at themselves honestly." Sam paused. "Harper, I'm not telling you to forgive Jack or take him back. That's your decision to make. But I will say that the man I've been watching for the past eight months isn't the same man who, you know. Whether that means anything to you is up to you to decide."
After I hung up, I sat in the quiet living room, thinking about Sam's words. About Jack's quiet acts of service, his complete presence during visits with Emma, his honest acknowledgment of his mistakes and their consequences.
Maybe the man I'd married was still in there somewhere, refined by consequences and therapy into someone who understood what really mattered.
I found myself looking forward to Jack's next visit with Emma, curious to observe him with this new awareness of who he might be becoming.
It wasn't forgiveness. But it was something I hadn't felt in months: genuine curiosity about the man Jack was choosing to become, rather than anger about the man he'd been.
Chapter 21
Harper
"You need to get out more," Lisa said, bouncing Emma on her knee while I finished my coffee. Harper, it's been ten months since Emma was born. When was the last time you did something just for you?"?
I thought about it. Between caring for Emma, managing my design business - which I was slowly returning to - and navigating the complicated reality of co-parenting with a man I was still married to but didn't live with, I couldn't remember the last time I'd done anything purely for myself.
"I go out," I protested weakly. "I had lunch with Rowena last week."
"With Emma in tow. I'm talking about adult time. Grown-up conversation. Maybe even..." Lisa lowered her voice dramatically. "A date."
The word hung in the air between us like something foreign and slightly dangerous. A date. The idea felt simultaneously appealing and terrifying.
