Chapter 37 Emily
“Have you spoken to Andrew at all?” my mother asks gently, her hands folded in her lap.
I sit in the living room, a strange emptiness settling over me. My mother and Lisa are beside me, their concerned gazes fixed on me.
It’s been two weeks since we laid my father to rest, and though the physical exhaustion is slowly fading, an ache lingers that I can’t shake.
The mention of Andrew deepens the ache.
God, I miss him.
I miss him with every fiber of my being. I miss his steady presence. His practical nature. His loving, sweet side that I got the rare opportunity to see. I miss his gorgeous face. I miss his arms around me.
I shake myself out of my thoughts and force myself to focus on the present.
“I only saw him briefly at the funeral service,” I reply quietly. “We barely spoke.” The words feel hollow, a reminder of how distant he feels from me now.
Despite everything, I know Andrew has already started work on the Lakeside Riviera. Amy has been updating me. Not that I have much interest.
The one thing I was obsessed about has faded into the background. My father isn’t here to see any of it. Andrew can renovate it any way he wants; none of it matters the way it once did.
“What happens now?” Lisa asks softly, her voice careful. “Will you stay married?”
A painful twist forms in my heart as I recall that last conversation with Andrew, his voice echoing in my mind when I asked him if he would come see me.
I can’t .
I had known immediately what he meant, had felt it settle inside me. The lies had fractured something irrevocable between us.
“No,” I murmur, barely able to say it aloud. “I know Andrew. He won’t forgive this.”
My mother’s hand comes to rest on mine. “It was out of your hands, Emily. You were keeping your father’s promise.”
I shake my head, looking down at her hand on mine. “Andrew is my husband, Mom. I lied to him, again and again. There’s no excuse for that.”
Lisa lets out a quiet sigh, her eyes filled with empathy. “So, you’ll move out?”
“Yeah,” I reply, forcing a small, empty smile. “That’s the plan. Thankfully, my apartment hasn’t been sold yet. I’ll move back in while I figure out what comes next.”
“Or you could come back home,” my mother suggests, her voice filled with a quiet hope that tugs at me.
I glance around the familiar walls of my childhood home. Being here these past two weeks has reminded me how much I need space—time alone to fully process, to grieve, to heal from losing both my father and my marriage.
I squeeze my mother’s hand. “I’ll come often, Mom,” I say. Then, drawing a deep breath, I stand. “No point in putting it off any longer.”
Lisa stands with me, a hesitant look in her eyes. “I’ll come with you,” she offers.
I give her a grateful smile but shake my head. “Thanks, but Andrew might be home. We’ll probably need to talk.”
She nods, understanding. “Okay. But call me if you need me.”
With a last hug for my mother and Lisa, I gather my things and head to the door. The drive back to Andrew’s house—our house, I remind myself—feels longer than usual .
I pull up in front of the house, my heart a confused mess of longing and dread. I’m barely aware of shutting off the engine, of stepping out of the car and walking to the door.
This place that once felt like home, where I imagined a future with Andrew, now feels cold, unfamiliar.
As soon as I step inside, Bruno and Bear come bounding out from the kitchen, their tails wagging.
A small smile manages to find its way to my face, and I kneel, running my hands over their warm, familiar fur. “I’ve missed you guys so much,” I murmur, rubbing their ears.
But then I hear footsteps, and I look up. Andrew stands in the hallway, watching me with an expression I can’t quite read.
He looks exhausted with shadows under his eyes, his face tight with strain.
My heart races as I take him in, every nerve in my body buzzing to life. He looks like he hasn’t slept, like he’s been carrying his own storm of emotions—and seeing him like this turns my knees to jelly, sending a shiver through my lungs.
I get to my feet, and we stare at each other, the silence stretching painfully between us. There are so many things I want to say, so many explanations on the tip of my tongue, but none of them feel right.
Instead, I gather what strength I have left and manage, “I’ve come to get my stuff. The rest, the movers will come by to collect.”
He nods, his face impassive. “I think that’s best.”
The tiny hope I had clung to—some miracle that he would want to talk, that he might give me a chance to explain—shatters.
He doesn’t say another word. He just turns and heads toward the kitchen, leaving me standing there, aching and hollow.
Blinking back tears, I steel myself and head up the stairs, the dogs following close behind me, wagging their tails.
Once in my room, I grab a suitcase from the closet and look around .
Memories flood over me with each item I touch, each familiar corner of this space we once shared. My hand shakes as I zip open the suitcase and start to pack, but the numbness wears off quickly, replaced by a fresh wave of grief.
My chest tightens as I remember how Andrew gave up the master bedroom without a second thought, just to make me feel at home.
The tears I’ve been holding back finally spill over, silent and hot against my skin.
I never wanted this. All my life, I’ve done my best to keep my promises, to honor my commitments. And keeping my father’s last wish—it felt sacred, something I couldn’t betray.
But, what has it cost me? The man I love, the life we could have built together. And for what? A lie that grew so big it consumed everything.
I clutch my suitcase, anger rising as I think of my father, of the promise he made me swear to uphold, binding me to silence. I loved him, and I wanted to honor his wishes, but it was unfair.
This secret has cost me so much. It’s broken the one thing I thought would last—the one man I thought I could rely on. The man I love more than I ever thought I could, with his steady, dependable presence, his deep, unwavering love.
And I’ve let him down. I’ve destroyed us.
Lost in my thoughts, I almost don’t hear the soft knock on the door. I look up and see Andrew standing there, his hand resting on the frame.
His gaze moves to the suitcase at my feet, and he pauses, as if debating whether to say anything at all. After a moment, he speaks.
“Do you need help carrying anything out?” he asks, his voice calm, neutral.
I shake my head, trying to keep my voice steady. “No, I’ve got it.”
For a moment, we just stand there, locked in this unbearable silence. The air between us feels charged with everything we haven’t said, everything we can’t take back .
I want to tell him how sorry I am, that I never meant to hurt him, that I would give anything to undo it all. But the words won’t come, and I’m not even sure they’d make a difference if they did.
“I thought I knew you,” Andrew says.
I freeze, his words piercing through me. His gaze is intense, filled with an ache I recognize because it mirrors my own.
“Andrew...” My voice is barely audible. “I never wanted to lie to you. I was trying to keep a promise, to honor my father. I didn’t want to hurt you.”
He takes a step closer, and the raw emotion in his face is almost too much to bear. “You did hurt me, Emily. Every time you looked me in the eyes and told me your father was traveling, every time you chose the lie over me, over us...”
His voice breaks slightly, and he shakes his head, struggling to keep his composure. “I was your husband. I thought you trusted me.”
Tears spill over my cheeks as I nod, my heart splintering. “I did trust you. I do. But, I felt trapped, and I thought I was doing the right thing, even though it feels so wrong now.”
His jaw tightens, and he looks away, his shoulders tense. “How am I supposed to move past that, Emily? You had every opportunity to tell me the truth. But you chose to lie, over and over again. I can’t just forget that.”
I open my mouth to reply, but the words stick, swallowed by the weight of everything I’ve done. He’s right. I had every chance to tell him, every chance to choose him, but I let my fear control me, let it dictate my choices. And now, it’s too late.
Andrew takes a deep breath, his face hardening. “I think it’s best if we both move on. You’ve got your life to live, and I’ve got mine.”
His words are like a final blow, their harshness leaving me breathless. I had hoped for a miracle, some way to make this right, but now, I realize it’s truly over.
He’s not coming back. The man I love, the man who had once looked at me with such warmth, is gone .
I nod, swallowing back the tears. “I understand,” I whisper, though the words feel hollow. How am I supposed to live without him?
He steps aside, and I drag my suitcase down the stairs, each step heavy, the dogs watching me as if sensing the shift.
When I reach the front door, I pause, glancing back one last time.
Andrew stands at the top of the stairs, his hands shoved into his pockets, his gaze distant.
I want to say something, anything, to make him look at me the way he used to, to bring back the man I knew. But I know he’s already gone, lost in the hurt and betrayal I’ve caused.
“Goodbye, Andrew,” I say, my heart breaking all over again.
He doesn’t respond, doesn’t even look at me. He’s already looking past me, to a future that doesn’t include us.
With a shaky breath, I step outside, the cool air hitting me like a slap. The tears finally spill over as I walk to my car, closing the door softly behind me.
The world feels empty, and I know that whatever life I have left will feel like this—cold, barren, without him.