He didn’t deny it. That silence told me everything.
“She understands me,” he added, like that was supposed to soften the blow.
I let out a breath that felt like it scraped my lungs on the way out. “We have eight children,” I said. “What exactly do you think they understand?”
He shifted uncomfortably, already halfway gone in his mind. “They’ll be fine. You’re strong.”
That was it. That was his justification. Not love, not responsibility—just the assumption that I would carry everything he dropped.
“Don’t do this,” I said quietly. Not begging, just stating the weight of what he was about to break.
But he had already made his choice.
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