Chapter 21
We’re back in the little room with the brown couch and Dr. Claudia. Already having told her about the date, how good it was, how easy. Like something old and familiar slipping back into place.
Dr. Claudia leans forward slightly; hands folded in her lap. “And what were your thoughts after the date?”
Aiden answers without missing a beat. “Great. Like… like we’re on the right path.”
I nod slowly. “It did feel great.” Pausing I add. “Until the thoughts came back.”
I turn toward him. “Until now, I always thought you cheated because you were cornered. Because marriage felt like something you had to do, not something you wanted. But last night…” I hesitate, searching his face.
“You told me you wanted it. The wedding. The big celebration. You said it mattered to you.”
His eyes stay locked on mine, but he doesn’t speak.
“So then why ?” My voice softens, but the edge doesn’t leave. “And don’t tell me it was because you were drunk. It wasn’t just that night. It was the month before. You were distant. Angry. You snapped at your mom, at me. You shut down every time I asked what was going on. It was like you hated me.”
He drops his gaze, jaw tight. “I didn’t hate you.”
“Then, why Aiden? Why did you do it?”
There’s a long, heavy silence.
Then he exhales. “I was jealous, okay?”
I blink. “Jealous?”
He nods, voice low. “Your parents came back. After your grandma died. Offered to pay for the wedding. And you said no, you told them they didn’t have the right.
But your dad looked… heartbroken. I know now that you were protecting yourself, and I get that.
But back then…” He trails off, his hands fidgeting.
I stay quiet, afraid that if I say anything, he’ll stop talking.
“I thought if your parents could come back, maybe mine would too.”
That stops me cold.
He continues, voice shaking. “So, I went looking for him. My dad. I knew what he’d done, what he put my mom through but I still went.
I didn’t tell you. You were already dealing with your own family, and I didn’t want to pile on.
I didn’t want to admit that while your parents came back to you , I had to chase mine down. ”
He swallows. “I found him in Dallas. Just knocked on his door and… he knew. The second he saw me, he knew who I was. Invited me in, made coffee, started talking like it was some kind of reunion.” Aiden laughs once, bitter and hollow.
“He told me about his kids. He has three. Same ages as ours. And he was smiling , like it was all normal.”
I watch him. He doesn’t look at me.
“I snapped. Asked him how he could be so damn casual after walking away from me and my mom. Told him he was the villain in my story.” He draws a long breath.
“That’s when he told me the truth. Said he didn’t leave with Mom’s best friend.
Didn’t abandon me. He said… when I was ten, we were out riding bikes.
I fell, broke my arm and needed surgery.
At the hospital, they learned I was B positive. ”
I frown slightly, not following until he adds, “My mom is O positive. He’s B.”
The realization hits me like a jolt.
He nods. “He knew that wasn’t possible. Got a DNA test and found out I wasn’t his.
Turns out, my mom had been having an affair.
With her married boss. My biological father.
He confronted her, asked for a divorce. She fought for full custody and won.
Then she cut off her best friend too, because she wasn’t okay with what Mom had done. He never left me , she pushed him out.”
My breath catches.
“He had no idea we were struggling. By the time everything fell apart financially, he was already legally blocked. Turns out his boss’s wife found out too, gave him an ultimatum. He chose his family.”
Aiden goes quiet, then adds, barely audible, “The day I found all that out… you’d just had another fight with your parents.
And I just, God, I was pissed. I didn’t want to be, but it hurt.
” His voice breaks. “I didn’t tell my mom I knew.
Just told her to back off, to respect your boundaries.
That was the fight we had. I couldn’t even look at her anymore. ”
He swipes a hand over his face. “The day before the wedding, my dad texted me. I’d invited him but he said he couldn’t come. His kid was sick.”
I already know what’s coming, but I wait.
“I went out that night. Got drunk. Told myself I could shake it. That I’d be okay. But I couldn’t get out of it. I kept spiralling. And then” His voice falters. “That night, when the stripper… when she… I pushed her off. The second I realized what was happening, I swear to God , I pushed her off.”
He’s crying now. No sobs, just tears. Slow and silent.
“I didn’t want her . I just wanted to forget. And I messed up everything.”
The room goes quiet. Dr. Claudia doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t offer a tissue. Doesn’t lean forward with a follow-up question. Doesn’t fill the silence. She just lets it hang there, wide, still, heavy with everything that can’t be fixed in one session.
Aiden’s shoulders rise and fall with each breath; his eyes fixed on a spot on the rug. Mine are locked on him.
I don’t know what I expected. A lie, maybe. Or a half-truth. Something that would make it easier to keep being angry. To stay wrapped in the hurt I’ve carried for so long.
But not this. Not him , broken open like this, bleeding out all the things I never knew were hiding underneath his silence.
I want to say something. Anything. But for the first time in a long time, I don’t have the words. So I just sit there.
Next to the man who betrayed me. Next to the boy who wanted his father. Next to the truth, which is somehow more painful than the lie I’d been telling myself.
The clock ticks on the wall. Aiden wipes his face, like he’s embarrassed to be seen this way.
Dr. Claudia finally speaks, her voice soft but steady. “I want to honour the courage it took for you to say all of that, Aiden.”
She lets the words land, then turns slightly, her gaze flicking to me. “And Kate… I can feel how heavy that was to hear. You don’t need to respond right now. You’re allowed to take a moment. Both of you are.”
Another pause. Then, still calm, still quiet: “What you’re sitting in right now, that’s grief. Grief for what happened, for what could have happened. For the people you were then. For the pain that was never spoken aloud until now.”
She looks between us, no judgment in her eyes.
“This isn’t about justifying what Aiden did.
It’s not about erasing the damage. It’s about understanding the cracks that formed beneath the surface.
Because healing doesn’t come from pretending the hurt didn’t happen.
It comes from facing it together, honestly, even when it’s messy. ”
She leans back slightly. “So let’s stay with this. Just for a little while. You’re safe here.”
Aiden shifts beside me, like her words gave him permission to breathe. His hand is resting between us on the couch, close but not touching. I don’t move. Not yet.
I nod once, barely. My throat feels tight.
“It’s just… I’ve been telling myself a version of that night that made sense.
That kept me from falling apart. I thought if I could blame the alcohol, or the pressure, or the fact that you didn’t really want to marry me…
then maybe I could keep loving you without hating myself for it. ”
Aiden’s voice is low, wrecked. “I hate that I gave you that story to carry.”
I glance at him. “It wasn’t all you. I was the one who held on to it.”
He shakes his head. “You shouldn’t have had to.”
Dr. Claudia lets the silence stretch again. Then, soft and steady: “What would it look like to let go of the version that protected you… and make room for the truth?”
I don’t answer right away. I stare at my hands. At the ring I still haven’t taken off. “I don’t know,” I whisper. “I feel like a failure. I was so scared of losing him that I never asked… never even tried.”
Aiden’s hand shifts slightly, brushing mine. He doesn’t take it. Just lets it be there. An offer. A presence.
Dr. Claudia nods, slow and gentle, like she’s handling something fragile. “It’s not failure,” she says. “It’s survival. Sometimes we love so hard, we forget to look closely. Because if we did… we might have to face things we’re not ready for.”
I feel that in my chest, like pressure behind my ribs. The kind that’s been building for years, maybe.
Aiden speaks without looking at me. “I should’ve told you about my dad. I should’ve told you everything.” His voice is rough, like it scrapes on the way out. “But I didn’t know how. I barely understood it myself.”
“I get it,” I say. And I do. That’s the hard part. I wish I didn’t. I wish I could hate him clean. But the truth is messy, and it sounds a lot like my own silence. My own fear.
I finally look at him. “What now?”
He looks back at me. No defences. No spin. Just eyes I’ve known forever, and a hurt we’re still learning how to name.
“I don’t know,” he says honestly. “But I want to try. If you’ll let me.”