Fourteen
Teller
Three days. I've been in this hotel room for three days, and I'm losing my mind.
I've called in sick to work. I can't focus on anything except the wreckage of my marriage.
I've been reading. So much reading. Books about emotional infidelity, about narcissism, about how to rebuild trust. I've taken notes. Made lists. I tried to understand how I became this person.
And I've been thinking about Susanna. Constantly.
The way she smiles when she's reading something funny.
The way she hums while she cooks.
The way she used to look at me like I was her whole world.
When did I stop appreciating that? When did I start taking her for granted?
I can pinpoint the moment, actually. About six months ago. She got a promotion at work. Started traveling more. Became more independent.
And instead of being proud of her, I felt... threatened. Like she didn't need me anymore.
So I found people who did need me. Clarissa with her career crisis. Emmaline with her relationship drama.
I fed my ego at the expense of my marriage.
I'm such a fucking idiot.
My phone rings. Unknown number. I answer anyway, desperate for any contact.
"Teller?" It's Clarissa.
"Why are you calling me?"
"Look, I just wanted to apologize again. I had no idea you were still married. Frank told me you were separated and that Susanna was the one who left."
"He lied."
"I'm starting to realize that. He's been calling me, trying to explain, but honestly? I think he's full of shit. I think he was playing both of us."
"He was."
"For what it's worth, you talked about Susanna all the time. I should have realized you were still in love with her. I'm sorry I didn't see it."
"It's not your fault. It's mine. I should have seen what was happening."
"Are you going to be okay?"
"I don't know. Susanna won't talk to me. I don't blame her. But, I know that whatever this was, this friendship is done. I love my wife and I won’t ever have her feeling like I made her feel again."
"Give her time. If you really love her, she'll see it eventually."
"What if time isn't enough, though?"
Clarissa is quiet for a moment. "Then you'll have to live with the consequences of your actions. But at least you'll know you tried."
After we hang up, I sit with that. Living with the consequences.
What if Susanna never forgives me? What if I've destroyed the best thing in my life and there's no way to fix it?
I can't accept that. I won't.
I grab my laptop and start writing. Not notes this time. A letter.
Dear Susanna,
I don't know if you'll read this. I don't know if you'll ever want to hear from me again. But I need to say this, even if you never see it.
I was wrong. Not just about the dates—though I was catastrophically wrong about that. I was wrong about everything.
I was wrong to stay out late. Wrong to prioritize Frank's friends over you. Wrong to dismiss your concerns. Wrong to make you feel crazy for noticing what was right in front of both of us.
I was wrong to take you for granted. Wrong to stop seeing you. Wrong to stop appreciating everything you do, everything you are.
You asked me when I stopped looking at you like you mattered. The truth is, I never stopped. But I stopped showing it. I stopped saying it. I stopped acting like it.
And that's just as bad.
I've spent the last three days trying to understand how I became this person. How I turned into someone who could hurt you like this.
I think it's because I was scared. You got that promotion, and you started traveling, and you became so independent and successful. And instead of being proud of you, I felt threatened. Like you didn't need me anymore.
So I found people who did need me. I fed my ego with their problems and their gratitude. I let myself believe I was being helpful when really I was just being selfish.
I know now that you did need me. You needed me to be present. To be supportive. To be your partner.
And I failed you.
I don't know if you can forgive me. I don't know if I deserve your forgiveness. But I'm asking for the chance to try.
Not to go back to how things were. I don't want that. I want to build something better. Something where I actually show up. Where I prioritize you. Where I'm the husband you deserve.
I've cut off Frank completely. I've deleted every contact he introduced me to. I've started looking for a therapist who specializes in narcissistic behavior because I need to understand why I did this and how to make sure I never do it again.
I'm not asking you to take me back right now. I'm just asking you not to give up on us yet.
I love you, Susanna. I've always loved you. I just forgot how to show it.
I won't forget again.
Teller
I read it over three times, then I save it. I'm not ready to send it yet. It's not enough. Words are never enough.
I need to show her. Through actions. Through change.
Through groveling like my life depends on it.
Because it does.