For a moment, I wavered, caught between anger and compassion.
Was it possible he had done this out of misguided love?
But another part of me, the one that had been silent for too long, shouted that this was a violation of trust, a breach too significant to overlook. I told him I needed time to think, and retreated to the guest room—away from his soft words and tender touches.
That night, I lay awake, wrestling with a heavy heart and the harsh realization that the man I thought I knew was a stranger. And as dawn light crept through the window, I knew I had to decide whether our story would end with a period or a question mark.
