Chapter Sixteen
Ashley hadn’t wanted to be here. The small counseling office smelled faintly of lavender and leather, the shelves lined with books on marriage, trust, and forgiveness.
A single box of tissues sat on the coffee table like a silent prediction.
She sat stiffly on one end of the couch, arms crossed, her gaze fixed on the floor.
Kingston sat beside her, though not close enough to touch.
They hadn’t sat this near to each other since the night everything fell apart. The counselor, Dr. Harris, smiled gently, clipboard balanced on his lap. “Thank you both for coming. This is the first step, and it matters.”
Ashley wanted to scoff. It didn’t feel like a step forward. It felt like she had been dragged here by well-meaning family members who still believed marriage could be patched with enough effort.
Her mother’s voice echoed in her head: “At least try, Ashley. For the kids. For yourself.”
So here she was, trying. Or at least sitting in the chair.
Kingston’s hand twitched against his knee, as if he wanted to reach for hers but thought better of it.
His voice was low when he spoke. “I know I don’t deserve to be here but I’ll do whatever it takes.
” Ashley kept her eyes on the carpet, jaw clenched.
Dr. Harris leaned forward. “Maybe we start with honesty. Kingston, tell Ashley what led you here. Not just what you did but why.”
Kingston inhaled shakily, his chest rising and falling as if the weight of his confession pressed on his lungs.
“I was exhausted. Lonely. I convinced myself Ashley didn’t see me anymore.
That she cared more about the kids, her job, everything else and then Rebecca, she was there.
She made me feel noticed. Desired. I told myself it was harmless.
Just dinners. Just talking but it wasn’t. ”
His eyes filled, voice breaking. “It was selfish. It was betrayal. I destroyed the one person who ever truly loved me.”
Ashley’s throat tightened. She didn’t want to cry in front of him, not now, but the tears burned anyway.
She forced herself to speak, voice trembling.
“Do you have any idea what it felt like? To see our marriage, the life we built reduced to nothing more than ‘I was lonely’? Do you know how small that makes me feel? Like I wasn’t enough. Like our family wasn’t enough.”
Kingston’s hands balled into fists. “It wasn’t you. It was me. My weakness. My blindness. I see it now, Ash, I do.”
Her laugh was sharp, bitter. “You see it now because you lost me. Not because you cared enough to stop before it happened.”
The silence that followed was heavy.
Dr. Harris nodded slowly, giving space to the words. “Ashley, what do you need to feel safe again? To even consider trust?”
Ashley wiped at her cheeks with the back of her hand.
“I don’t know. I don’t think I can.” She turned to Kingston finally, her eyes red but steady.
“Every time you say you love me, all I can see is you with her. Every late night, every unanswered call, it replays in my head. You touched her with the same hands you held me with. You gave her the parts of you that were supposed to be mine.”
Kingston looked gutted, his shoulders hunched like the words were knives. “I hate myself for it. If I could cut out the memory, I would. If I could go back—”
“But you can’t,” she interrupted. “That’s the problem. You can’t undo it and I can’t unsee it.”
The sessions continued for weeks. Every Wednesday evening, they sat in that same small room, spilling pain into the air.
Kingston confessed more than Ashley wanted to hear, the moments he should have stopped, the lies he told himself to keep going.
Ashley shared the depth of her hurt, the nights she lay awake imagining him with Rebecca, the way her own body felt foreign to her now, tainted by his betrayal.
Some sessions ended in silence, both too wrung out to speak.
Others ended in shouting, years of unspoken resentment exploding between them.
One evening, Kingston dropped his head into his hands, his voice muffled. “I don’t know how to make you believe me. I’ve cut Rebecca out completely. I’ve changed my shifts to be home more. I’m trying, Ash. I swear I’m trying.”
Ashley stared at him, her heart aching in ways she couldn’t explain. Part of her still loved him, of course she did but love wasn’t the same as trust. Love wasn’t enough to erase the images burned into her mind.
“I know you’re trying,” she admitted softly. “But every time I look at you, it hurts. I can’t breathe when you walk into the room. I want to forgive you. God, I do but the wound keeps bleeding no matter how many bandages we throw on it.”
Dr. Harris leaned in. “Ashley, it’s okay to admit if forgiveness feels impossible. Trying doesn’t always mean repairing. Sometimes it means acknowledging the truth.”
Her chest tightened at the word, truth because the truth was, no matter how many sessions they sat through, she couldn’t find her way back to him.
At home, the children picked up on the tension. Their daughter, Emma had asked one night, “Mommy, why isn’t Daddy sleeping here anymore?” and Ashley’s heart cracked anew. She’d answered with a soft lie, saying Daddy had to work late, but Emma wasn’t fooled.
Kingston tried. He came to family dinners, read bedtime stories, played with the kids in the yard.
He made sure to be present, to show up and sometimes, watching him with them, Ashley felt the faintest glimmer of the man she once knew but then she’d remember the betrayal and the glimmer would vanish.
The final session was the hardest. Dr. Harris had them each write a letter of what they hoped for, what they feared, what they couldn’t say out loud. They sat in silence as Ashley read hers first, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Kingston, I love you. That hasn’t changed, and maybe it never will but I don’t trust you and without trust, our marriage feels like a cage.
I can’t keep living in a space where every breath hurts.
I want us to be the best parents we can be.
I want us to be kind to each other, for the kids’ sake but I can’t be your wife anymore.
Not like this.” Her hand shook as she lowered the paper.
Tears blurred her vision, but her voice was steady.
Kingston sat frozen, his letter crumpled in his fist. When he finally spoke, his words were raw, breaking.
“I was going to write that I’d do anything.
That I’d spend the rest of my life proving myself to you but I hear you, Ash and as much as it kills me, I won’t chain you to me in pain.
If letting you go is the only way to love you right… then I’ll do it.”
The silence that followed was unbearable.
Ashley closed her eyes, exhaling shakily. “Then I think this is the end.”
Kingston’s shoulders sagged, his face hollowed with grief but he didn’t fight her this time. He simply whispered, “I’m sorry,” again and again, as if the words might somehow soften the shattering.
Dr. Harris ended the session gently, reminding them that endings could also be beginnings but as they walked out of the office side by side, Ashley knew this wasn’t a beginning for them as a couple.
It was the slow, painful start of letting go and though her heart ached, there was a strange, quiet relief in finally naming what had been true all along.