My appointment the next day was quieter than the first.
I arrived early and sat in the waiting area with my handbag on my lap.
The folder inside felt heavier than it was.
I could feel its edge through the leather.
I kept thinking about the woman in the boutique.
Savannah had raised her hand to show me the diamond, certain that the ring settled something.
I wondered whether she had told anyone about the encounter afterward.
I wondered whether she had asked Grant what October eighteenth meant.
Most of all, I wondered what he had told her when he finally had to explain why his face had changed.
I couldn't know.
And for once, I didn't need to know before taking the next step.
The attorney called me into the office.
I sat down and placed the folder on the desk.
We discussed what had changed since the previous meeting.
I explained that Grant knew I had sought advice.
I told the attorney about the conversation at home and his reaction to the date.
I kept to the facts.
There was no need to guess at what Grant might be thinking.
I knew what he had said.
I knew what he had done.
The rest was uncertainty.
We reviewed the options available to me and the practical questions I needed to consider.
I asked about the process.
I asked what I should prepare.
I asked how to protect my interests while making decisions carefully.
I listened to the answers and wrote down the points I needed to remember.
The attorney did not tell me what I should feel.
That was a relief.
I had spent too much time listening to Grant explain my feelings to me.
I needed someone who would explain my options without asking me to make his life easier.
By the end of the appointment, I felt steadier.
Not happy.
Not relieved in any complete sense.
Just steadier.
I put my notes away and thanked the attorney.
When I stepped outside, I stood on the pavement for a moment before walking toward my car.
The day was bright.
People passed carrying bags and coffee cups.
A woman was trying to close an umbrella that had turned inside out in the wind.
I watched her struggle with it, then laugh when she finally got it folded.
The ordinary scene stayed with me.
I had expected clarity to feel dramatic.
Instead, it felt like being able to notice something that had nothing to do with Grant.
I drove home and placed the folder in the drawer upstairs.
Then I changed my clothes and made lunch.
I ate at the kitchen table.
I didn't check my phone.
I didn't wonder whether Grant had contacted Savannah.
For an hour, I let myself exist without trying to interpret someone else's behavior.
It was a small freedom.
I had forgotten how much I needed it.
Grant came home earlier than I expected.
I heard the key in the lock while I was washing a plate.
He walked into the kitchen and stopped when he saw me.
"You're back."
I turned off the tap.
"Yes."
He glanced toward the stairs.
"Did you see your attorney?"
"I did."
He stood near the doorway, looking uncomfortable.
"Can you tell me what you discussed?"
I dried my hands.
"We discussed my options."
His mouth tightened.
"That's all you're going to say?"
"For now."
He moved to the counter and picked up a glass.
He filled it with water, drank, then set it down.
I could see him trying to decide how to ask the next question.
"Are you planning to end our marriage?"
I looked at him.
It was the first time he had asked me directly.
I wanted to give him a simple answer.
Part of me wanted to say yes and watch the fear leave my hands.
Another part still remembered the life we had shared and the person I had believed he was.
I would not pretend those memories meant nothing.
But I would not use them to avoid the truth.
"I am considering what is best for me," I said.
He looked almost angry.
"That isn't an answer."
"It is the answer I have right now."
He put the glass down.
"I need to know where I stand."
I felt a tiredness settle behind my eyes.
"You've known where you stand with me for years."
He shook his head.
"That's not fair."
I looked at him.
"Fair?"
He stopped.
I could see him realize what he had said.
For months, he had made choices that affected my life without asking what I wanted.
He had kept his affair hidden.
He had allowed me to continue believing we were working toward a shared future.
He had made a promise to Savannah while leaving me to discover it in a boutique.
Yet now he wanted fairness.
I did not raise my voice.
"I am not trying to hurt you, Grant. But I am not going to protect you from the consequences of your choices."
He stared at me.
For a moment, I thought he might argue.
Instead, he looked away.
"I didn't think it would end up like this."
I believed him.
I believed he had imagined a smoother path.
Perhaps he thought I would be devastated enough to accept his explanation.
Perhaps he believed he could tell me the marriage was over and expect me to move aside.
Perhaps he thought he could keep his relationship with Savannah separate from the life we had built.
He had probably believed many things.
The problem was that none of them had required him to consider what I might do.
"You didn't think about what it would be like for me," I said.
He looked back at me.
"I did."
I waited.
He had no answer.
I turned toward the sink and picked up the plate again.
The conversation was over.
That evening, we ate separately.
Grant stayed downstairs after dinner.
I went to the bedroom and opened the drawer where I kept the few pieces of jewelry I rarely wore.
I took out a small box and placed it on the dresser.
Then I looked at the ring on my finger.
I had worn it for so long that removing it felt like making a statement I wasn't ready to make.
I slid it halfway off, then stopped.
The skin beneath the band was pale.
I pushed the ring back into place.
Not yet.
I closed the jewelry box.
When I went downstairs, Grant was sitting on the sofa with his phone in his hand.
He looked up as I entered.
"Can we talk tomorrow?"
I stood near the doorway.
"About what?"
He hesitated.
"I need to sort some things out."
I almost asked whether those things involved Savannah.
I didn't.
He had to decide what he was going to do about his engagement and his child.
I had to decide what I was going to do about my marriage.
Those decisions were connected, but they were not the same.
"All right," I said.
He seemed relieved.
I wondered whether he mistook my answer for a promise that I would wait.
I did not correct him.
There was no point explaining the same boundary every night.
I went upstairs and got ready for bed.
Later, lying in the dark, I heard him moving around downstairs.
A cabinet opened.
Water ran briefly.
Then the house became quiet.
I thought about the cashmere booties again.
I had left them on the display table, but I could still picture the way one had tipped onto its side.
I had straightened it before walking away.
At the time, I had needed something small and orderly to hold on to.
Now I understood why that detail had stayed with me.
I had spent years trying to keep our life looking normal.
I had made excuses for Grant's absences.
I had ignored questions I was afraid to ask.
I had taken the awkward edges of our marriage and smoothed them down so we could continue as we were.
I had thought I was protecting what we had.
Perhaps I had only been protecting the appearance of it.
The next morning, I woke before the alarm.
I sat on the edge of the bed and looked at my ring.
I didn't take it off.
I didn't need to decide that day.
What mattered was that I no longer believed keeping it on meant I had agreed to wait forever.
I got dressed and went downstairs.
Grant was still asleep.
I made coffee, drank it by the window, and watched the street wake up.
For the first time in a long while, I did not rehearse what I might say if he asked me to forgive him.
I did not plan how to explain my pain in a way he would accept.
I did not wonder how to make him understand.
I had spent enough time trying to make him see what he had done.
Now I was going to pay attention to what I needed to do next.
I rinsed the cup and placed it beside the sink.
Then I took my handbag from the chair and checked that the folder was still in the drawer where I had put it.
It was.
I closed the drawer.
I had stopped mistaking his fear of losing control for proof that he loved me.
And that morning, it was enough to know the difference.
Click here to continue reading: PART 9: Grant Finally Asked What I Wanted, but He Was Still Hoping My Answer Would Leave His Other Future Untouched
I Thought I Was Buying Something for Our Future Until I Heard My Husband Laugh Behind Me
Part 8 of 12
