Chapter 7: The Limits of Forgiveness

"You didn’t have to go that far with a young girl."

Michael leaned against the closet doorway, arms crossed, as I went through my nightly routine.

"You could have told me first."

I sat at my vanity, watching his reflection. "You knew I liked that necklace, yet you gave it to another woman. Isn’t it normal for me to be upset?"

The mirror lights cast sharp lines across my face. I wondered—if Michael ever lost his integrity, could I still love him the same?

He poured himself a glass of ice water, the sound of ice against crystal echoing in the quiet.

"She cried all night because of your misunderstanding. When I saw her swollen eyes, I just gave her the necklace as an apology."

He never left a flaw to find—part of what made loving him so infuriating, and so addictive.

I stared at him, cold. Three hundred thousand dollars meant nothing to us; it was a question of who deserved it.

He tapped his finger on the marble counter, waiting.

This was the first time a third party had caused friction. We both hated feeling out of control.

"Michael, I love you."

He paused, surprised. The words came out raw and shaky, but I meant them.

"Michael, I love the flawless you. That’s what makes you different. You never let women get close before, because you have boundaries. You wanted a real marriage. Your values changed me. Now, we want the same things."

"I hope our marriage never faces a fork in the road."

Michael sighed. "It won’t."

His voice was gentle, almost vulnerable. For tonight, I believed him.