She braced herself for learning the truth. Another woman, another life, explanations that would sting. She rehearsed reactions in the mirror. “You’ll survive,” she whispered. Imagining betrayal oddly prepared her. It dulled her fear, making pain feel predictable, almost manageable, something she could endure without losing her dignity entirely.
Brett finally asked to see her a week later. “Please,” he said softly. They met at a café. This time, he placed medical reports on the table. She frowned, but her stomach tightened as she scanned headings, unfamiliar terms, and dates that suddenly reframed his silence entirely, painfully, and urgently, without warning.