“I need you to leave,” I said to my husband.
His chin trembled. “Where am I supposed to go?”
I let out a sharp laugh. “That’s what I had to figure out at 17. I’m sure you’ll manage.”
“Don’t do this,” he begged. “We have a life. A child. Please.”
“I had a right to know who I was choosing. You lied on day one. Everything after grew out of that lie.”
This time, I wasn’t a scared teenager.
I packed a suitcase—for myself and for our son. Clothes. Important documents. His favorite stuffed dinosaur.
When I came back into the room, my husband looked shattered. My mother stood silently, tears running down her face.
I set the suitcase by the door.
“I loved you,” I said to him. “More than was healthy. I gave up my family, my future, my education. I never regretted it. Not once. Because I thought you were honest with me.”
“I love you,” he choked.
“Love without truth is nothing.”
