“Then why did you?”
He had no answer.
I packed an overnight bag.
He followed me upstairs, pleading for time.
“Please don’t make any decisions tonight.”
I turned toward him.
“You’ve had eight months to decide what you wanted. I’ve had one afternoon to find out my husband is engaged.”
I stayed with a friend that night.
The following morning, Nina called.
“I went through our messages,” she said. “There’s something I think you should see.”
She sent several screenshots.
Six weeks earlier, she’d written, “Everett, I can’t plan a wedding while you’re still living with Rosalie. Are you certain she knows we’re together?”
His response was immediate.
“Yes. We’ve talked everything through. She’s having a difficult time accepting it, but she knows we’re moving on.”
Another conversation made me feel even worse.
Nina had written that she felt sorry for me because I apparently couldn’t afford another place.
