His silence felt worse than a confession. Laura realized she could forgive mistakes, even betrayal, if he was truly repentant, but not exclusion. It felt like their love was being turned into a hierarchy, where decisions were made above her, and truth became optional, rationed, and controlled by fear and secrecy.
She told him, “I can’t live with half-truths, not after everything we’ve shared. Love demands honesty.” The fact was that his reassurance only felt manipulative now. She needed clarity. Staying with him meant accepting erasure, slowly, politely, until nothing of her voice remained.