I nodded slowly, absorbing the words.
There it was.
“You didn’t think it was a big deal?” I repeated. “Of course, you didn’t. Because it wasn’t your bed being taken—you willingly gave it.
Your clothes weren’t thrown to the floor, your cupboard was perfectly untouched…”
He flinched.
“Jake, you stood there and watched while she erased me from our space. You just let it happen.”
“That’s not what I meant to do,” he said, his expression finally cracking under the pressure.
“But it’s what you did.”
He swallowed, looking down. And for the first time, I could see it.
The weight of everything sinking in.
“I thought I was keeping the peace,” he said.
We were both silent for a while.
“She left early, you know,” he said. “She said that she needed the cooking and cleaning to be done if she was going to be relaxed. She couldn’t handle the fact that she needed to do it.”
“I know,” I said.
“I didn’t expect her to stick around long after I left. She just wanted to be waited on.”
“She crossed a line in this house, Phoebe,” he said suddenly.
“Yeah, Jake,” I said, holding his gaze. “She did.
And so did you.”
He looked down again, nodding slightly.
For the first time since I had walked in, I saw it. The realization.
Not just that he had messed up. But why.
When he finally met my eyes again, he looked exhausted.
“I hate that you felt like you had to leave,” he admitted.
“I hate that I wasn’t made to feel like I could stay,” I continued.
Silence.
I watched him for a moment, gauging the sincerity.
He meant it.
“Good.”
“I’ll order takeout,” he said after a pause.
“Fine with me, Jake,” I said.
Then I walked past him toward our bedroom.
Where my clothes were back in place. Where my things were neatly put away. And where, finally, I belonged again.
What would you have done?
Source: amomama
