………….

After everything we have been through. How could I have not known. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit there were some red flags. But this, this, I was not prepared for. How the hell - I almost laughed at the irony of my choice of words - can he justify keeping this from me. To let me fall in love  with him, who does that. Him, apparently, and the worst part is he didn’t even tell me himself. If it wasn’t for his sister I’d still be oblivious. She just thought I knew, I mean how does one just know that, she had looked at me like I was crazy. Seriously like I was the crazy one. I thought for a minute, maybe I am, that would save me from this nightmare at least.

I sat across from him dumbfounded. He couldn’t even meet my gaze. I had so many questions, yet all I could muster was, ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

Through the wisps of his dark fringe, I could just see his downcast eyes. ‘Well’ I demanded. ‘Answer me’ I almost screamed, shock wearing off, anger setting in. His reply felt like a sharp slap, surely he didn’t think that was sufficient. In utter disbelief, I said, ‘what, did you say’, surely I had misheard. Almost defiantly he repeated ‘because you never bothered to ask’. I sat at the table, processing his words. Did he actually just say his reason for not telling me was because I never asked. To add insult injury it was almost accusatory.  Pretty sure no fcking human on the planet has ever had the need to legitimately ask their partner THAT question.

I could feel the familiar heaviness in my muscles as anxiety crept over my body. I felt so betrayed. I had a right to know.  Not now, a year later. Right at the start, day fcking one. It should have been my choice. He took that from me.

‘Do you want a tea’, he said pushing his chair out.  Oh sure, let’s have tea. I mimicked his words silently, my eyes fixed on  a small chip on tables surface. I could hear familiar sounds as he went through the motions of making the tea. I shit you not making tea. Really the absurdity of a good old cup of tea.

He sat the cup in front of me. I noticed a tear fall from my cheek to the table. I hadn’t even realised I was crying. Usually when there was conflict he would leave and come back when the dust settled. Not this time, he sat back opposite me. I wanted to speak, yet I couldnt form an audible sentence.

So we sat and sat, I watched as the afternoon sky darkened, the kitchen window a changing landscape. The tea grew cold.

After what seemed like an eternity he broke the silence, ‘Well I’m still me. I’m still the person you have loved all this time. Please tell me you believe that”.

I could see his pain, I wanted to  tell him as I had a million times before, that everything would be ok. But I didn’t think that. In fact I thought that nothing would ever be ok again. How does anyone come back from this. I didn’t even know what I was feeling. One minute I wanted to reach out and touch the hand that sat nervously taping the table, reassure him, and the next, I wanted to run and never stop running. But was there anywhere that I could be safe ever again.