Fifteen
Susanna
It's been three days, and I still can't go home.
Hillary's been amazing—giving me space when I need it, distracting me when the thoughts get too dark. But I can't hide here forever.
I need to face my life. Face my marriage. Face Teller.
But I'm not ready yet.
I've been thinking about everything. Our whole relationship, from the beginning.
We met at a mutual friend's party. Teller was charming, funny, and attentive. He made me feel like the most interesting person in the room.
We dated for two years before he proposed. The proposal was perfect—a sunset picnic at our favorite park, just the two of us.
The wedding was beautiful. The honeymoon was magical.
The first year of marriage was blissful.
The second year was good, with normal ups and downs.
The third year... when did it start going wrong?
I got my promotion about six months ago. I started traveling for work. I started feeling more confident, more independent.
And Teller started pulling away.
At first, I thought he was just busy. Then I thought he was stressed. Then I started to wonder if he was having an affair.
Turns out I was right. Just not in the way I thought.
He wasn't sleeping with other women. But he was giving them his emotional energy. His time. His attention.
Everything that should have been mine.
My phone rings. It's my boss.
"Susanna, I heard you were taking some personal time. Is everything okay?"
"Family emergency," I say, which isn't exactly a lie.
"Take all the time you need. Your projects are covered."
After we hang up, I realize I need to make a decision. I can't stay in limbo forever.
I can either fight for my marriage or end it.
The question is: which one do I want?
I think about Teller. Really think about him.
He's not a bad person. He's not cruel or abusive. He's just... oblivious. Selfish in that everyday way that people can be when they're not paying attention.
Can people change? Can Teller change?
I don't know.
But I think about the look on his face at the restaurant. The horror. The realization.
That wasn't fake. That was real.
He genuinely didn't know what he was doing. And when he figured it out, he was devastated.
That has to count for something.
Doesn't it?
I pick up my phone and text him.
Me: I'm coming home tomorrow at noon. You can be there. We need to talk.
His response is immediate.
Teller: Thank you. I'll be there. I love you, Susanna.
I don't say it back.