Chapter Thirteen - James
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
James
The office smelled like old books and dried flowers.
The scent clung to the air, too gentle, too calm for the knot of tension tightening in James’s chest.
He sat stiffly on the worn leather couch, back ramrod straight, as though slouching would somehow make him weaker. Vulnerable.
The bookshelves lining the far wall were packed with self-help guides and psychology texts—stuff for people who couldn’t control their emotions. People who needed to be fixed.
James wasn’t one of them.
Except here he was.
Nick’s voice echoed in his head, sharper than it had been at the bar.
"You need to fix yourself, man. Not her. Not the marriage. You."
Nick didn’t get it.
None of them did.
Dr. Adler sat across from him, calm and expectant, her notepad balanced lightly on her lap. She didn’t press. She just waited.
The silence stretched too long, scraping against his nerves until James cleared his throat.
“I don’t even know why I’m here,” he muttered, forcing himself to meet her gaze.
Dr. Adler gave a slow, patient nod. “Okay. So what brought you here today?”
James exhaled sharply, leaning back. “My wife left me.”
The words came out harder than he meant, bitter and blunt.
“She took the kids. She came back, but it’s like...like she’s still gone. She’s moved into the guest room. And all because I—” He stopped, the words sticking like tar.
The weight of her gaze made him say it.
“Because I cheated.”
She didn’t react.
He hated the silence more than the words.
“I told her the truth afterward. I owned it. But she’s acting like I burned our whole life to the ground over one mistake.”
Dr. Adler tilted her head. “Why do you think she sees it that way?”
James’s jaw tightened. His voice dropped lower, harder. “Because she’s overreacting. It’s not like I was in love with someone else. I didn’t start some affair. It was just...sex.”
His words echoed back at him.
Just sex.
Dr. Adler’s pen stopped moving. “James, can I ask—why did you cheat?”
James blinked. “What?”
“Why was it a mistake? Because she found out? Or because you regretted it afterward?”
The question made his stomach twist.
“I—” He hesitated, then shrugged, defensive. “Because it was. I married my high school girlfriend. My only girlfriend. We’ve been together since we were kids. Is it really so crazy that after almost two decades, I might get curious ?”
His voice picked up, hotter now, the words tumbling out faster.
“I mean, my friend’s been on those apps for years. He makes it sound like every guy out there gets to live this...this fantasy —hooking up with women whenever they want, no strings. And I was supposed to just...never wonder what that would be like? To be with someone else? That’s normal. ”
Dr. Adler stayed silent, watching him carefully.
James exhaled hard, the tension coiling tighter.
“I wasn’t trying to hurt Kate. I love Kate. But I’ve never gotten to experience anything else. It wasn’t some grand betrayal—it was just one time. And I didn’t even like it. ”
His voice cracked, frustration thick.
“I just needed to get it out of my system. I thought if I did it once, I could move on and be better. I wasn’t planning to throw my marriage away over it.”
Dr. Adler folded her hands, her expression still too calm for how tangled he felt inside. “But you didn’t tell her. You kept it from her until she found out, correct?”
His stomach twisted again. He should tell Dr. Adler that he hadn’t had the chance to keep it from Kate. That she had been there. She had been in the room when he had been inside another woman.
He couldn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to relive that moment, the pain on Kate’s face.
“That’s not the point. I told her the truth. And now she’s punishing me for it. She took the kids away, she’s freezing me out. She acts like I’m some...some monster because I was curious about something perfectly natural.”
Dr. Adler's brow furrowed, the first sign of reaction. “Do you think she’s punishing you, or protecting herself?”
James clenched his fists. “She’s blowing this way out of proportion. I work my ass off for this family. I’ve paid for everything—the house, the kids’ schools, her entire life. She hasn’t worked in sixteen years. I’ve given her everything.”
Dr. Adler’s eyes narrowed, voice gentle but firm. “Are you saying she owes you loyalty because of financial dependence?”
“No.”
The word snapped out too quickly.
Then he softened, struggling to explain.
“I’m saying...I’ve provided . That’s what a husband does. And now she’s tearing our family apart like none of that matters. Like one mistake erases everything . And that’s not fair.”
Silence lingered between them.
Finally, Dr. Adler leaned forward, her voice lower, measured. “James...you keep saying it was just sex. But you also admitted it wasn’t fulfilling. That it didn’t give you what you thought you were looking for. So I’m going to ask again: Why did you cheat?”
His throat felt tight.
Because he was curious.
Because it felt like he’d missed out.
Because Nick made it sound so easy .
Because he’d spent his whole life being the good guy , the responsible one, and one night he’d wanted to know what it felt like to take something just for himself.
But saying it out loud would make it sound...selfish. Ugly.
So instead, he forced out:
“Because I’m a man, and I was curious. I shouldn’t have to explain that. Any guy would feel the same after seventeen years with one woman. I made a mistake. She needs to get over it.”
The words hung heavy in the air.
Dr. Adler studied him, silent for a long moment. Then she placed her notepad down, folding her hands neatly.
“James, it sounds like you’re not actually seeking to repair your marriage. It sounds like you’re asking your wife to minimize her pain so you don’t have to face your own guilt.”
His stomach twisted hard.
“That’s not—”
She cut him off gently.
“You came here because you said you wanted to fix this. But it seems like you’re more focused on defending yourself than asking why it happened at all.”
James’s jaw clenched, heat prickling under his skin.
He didn’t answer.
Because deep down—
He knew she was right.
══════════════════
James sat at the kitchen table, the journal from his therapy session open in front of him, the blank page staring back like it was mocking him. His pen hovered, tapping lightly against the paper.
Nothing came.
Through the doorway, he could see Kate.
She was sitting cross-legged on the floor with Lily, helping her sort through a chaotic pile of markers and papers. Lily was talking a mile a minute—something about making a card for her friend’s birthday—and Kate was nodding, smiling softly, fully engaged in the conversation.
Noah sat nearby, sprawled out on the couch, scrolling on his phone but close enough that his presence filled the space.
This.
This was what he had built. The life they had built.
And yet, all James could feel was the unbearable distance stretching between them.
Kate hadn’t been well since she moved back. And she looked...different. Not just because she’d moved into the guest room or the way she barely spoke to him these days. It was the fragile way she carried herself now—tighter, more guarded.
She didn’t glance toward the kitchen. Didn’t check for him the way she used to, those small moments of connection that had always been there, unspoken. The way her gaze would catch his, warm and steady, because he was her person.
Now?
She was with their kids, but she felt miles away from him.
And part of him still didn’t understand why.
He knew she was hurt, but he’d explained why he’d done it. It wasn’t like he was in love with someone else. It had been a mistake—a stupid, one-time lapse in judgment. A choice made out of curiosity, not cruelty.
She was choosing to punish him.
Wasn’t she?
James swallowed hard and forced his eyes back to the journal.
Write it down. Be honest.
The therapist’s words echoed louder in his head.
He clicked the pen and pressed it to the page.
I don’t know where to start.
I’m supposed to be writing about why I made the choice I did. But all I can think about right now is how I’m sitting here while my wife—the woman I’ve loved for more than half my life—won’t even look at me anymore.
His hand slowed, hovering.
His chest felt tight, like the words were pressing too deep.
In the next room, Lily giggled, holding up her hand to show Kate a marker stain on her palm. Kate smiled, leaning in gently to wipe it away with a damp cloth.
It was such a simple moment.
But all James could think was: That used to be us.
And the ache that left behind felt unbearable.
His grip tightened on the pen. He pressed harder, the tip digging into the paper as he kept writing.
I used to make her smile like that. She used to look at me the way she looks at the kids now. Like I was someone she could trust completely. But all she sees when she looks at me now is what I took from her.
The words came faster now, his mind racing.
I was curious. I needed to know what I’d missed. But that’s not true either, is it? I wasn’t just curious. I was selfish. I had everything. I had Kate. I had our family. And I still wanted more.
The pen slowed again.
A dull throb formed behind his ribs, his pulse heavy in his ears.
I told myself I deserved to feel free. Like I’d missed out on something other men got. But what did I really miss out on? What could possibly be worth…
He stopped.
Because the words I deserved felt...wrong.
Uneasy.
Like a lie.
James dragged a hand over his face, exhaling hard, the weight in his chest pressing heavier.
He stared at the page, rereading his own words, and for the first time—really seeing them.
This wasn’t about being curious. This wasn’t about Nick and his casual flings. It wasn’t even about the fact I had only ever been with one woman.
The words clawed up from his chest, bitter and undeniable.
I didn’t know who I was outside of this life. Who I was without her.
He blinked hard, swallowing past the tightness in his throat.
His hand was shaking now as he set the pen down.
Because for the first time, the anger drained out of him—leaving only the truth.
James’s breath caught, shallow and uneven, the edges of his vision blurring as a wave of heat flushed beneath his skin. His chest felt too tight, like he couldn’t pull in enough air, the pressure building, crushing. His hands curled into fists on the table, knuckles white, heart hammering so hard he could feel it in his throat.
Oh God. What have I done?
The room felt too small, the silence pressing in, suffocating. His pulse roared in his ears.
I can’t stop thinking about the look on her face that day. The pain in her eyes. The disbelief.
James’s hand tightened on the pen, his knuckles turning white. His stomach churned, bile rising at the memory.
How do you ever come back from something like this? How do you even begin to make amends when the damage feels endless?
A bead of sweat slipped down his temple, and he wiped it away hastily. His chest felt heavy, like there was a weight he couldn’t shake pressing against his ribs.
I destroyed the person I love the most. The person who trusted me. The mother of my kids. My partner.
His vision blurred, tears threatening, but he blinked them back. The shame sat hot and acidic in his throat, and he swallowed hard against it.
I was so fucking stupid. I wanted to feel like someone else, but I only found out how hollow that could be.
His jaw clenched so tightly it ached, and he forced himself to loosen it, exhaling a shaky breath that didn’t make him feel any better.
She deserves someone better. Someone who wouldn’t make her question her worth, someone who wouldn’t break her heart.
James paused, pressing the heel of his hand against his eyes as if he could push the self-loathing back. But it stayed, burrowing deeper into his chest.
He hadn’t just hurt Kate.
He’d been lying to himself—grasping for excuses—because facing the truth was unbearable.
From the living room, Lily’s laughter rang out again—bright, innocent, whole.
I thought I could make excuses for this. That I could explain it away as a mistake—a moment of weakness. But now I see the truth.
I’ve hurt the people I love the most. I’ve made Kate feel small, feel replaceable. I’ve shaken her sense of security in ways that words can’t repair. I’ve let my children down, even if they won’t ever know.
I can’t undo what I’ve done. But I can see it clearly now for what it is: the worst decision of my life.
James stared down at the journal, his pulse hammering loud and hollow in his chest. Slowly, he turned the page, the blank space stretching before him like a challenge.
His hand trembled as he picked up the pen again, this time pressing it to the paper with purpose—writing not excuses, not guilt, but a list.
A list of how he could make this right.