Sixteen
Teller
I've spent the morning cleaning. Not just tidying—deep cleaning. I scrubbed the kitchen until it gleamed. Vacuumed every room. Changed the sheets on our bed. Put fresh flowers on the dining room table.
It's not enough. It's nowhere near enough. But it's something.
I'm sitting on the couch when I hear her car in the driveway. My heart starts pounding so hard I think I might pass out.
The front door opens.
Susanna walks in, and I stand up so fast I almost knock over the coffee table.
She looks exhausted. Beautiful, but exhausted. There are dark circles under her eyes. Her hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail. She's wearing jeans and one of my old college sweatshirts.
She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
"Hi," I say, my voice cracking.
"Hi." She sets her purse down by the door but doesn't come any closer.
We stand there, ten feet apart, the distance between us feeling like miles.
"Thank you for coming," I say. "Thank you for giving me a chance to explain."
"I'm not here to listen to excuses, Teller. I'm here to decide if this marriage is worth saving."
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. "It is. Susanna, it is. I know I fucked up. I know I hurt you. But I love you, and I want to fix this."
"How?" Her voice is flat. "How do you fix this? How do you fix weeks of lying and gaslighting and emotional cheating?"
"I don't know. But I'll do whatever it takes. Therapy. Counseling. Whatever you need."
"What I need is to understand why. Why did you do this? Why wasn't I enough?"
"You were enough. You are enough. This wasn't about you. It was about me."
"That's such a cop-out."
"It's the truth! I was insecure. You got that promotion, and you started traveling, and you became so independent. And instead of being proud of you, I felt threatened. Like you didn't need me anymore."
"So you found other women who did need you."
"Yes. And it was stupid and selfish and wrong. I know that now."
"Do you? Because three days ago, you didn't know it. Three days ago, you were telling me I was paranoid."
I flinch. "I know. I was gaslighting you. I was making you feel crazy for noticing what was right in front of us. And I'm so sorry."
"Sorry isn't enough, Teller."
"I know. That's why I'm not just apologizing. I'm changing. I've cut off Frank completely. I've deleted every contact he introduced me to. I've been researching therapists. I've been reading about narcissism and emotional infidelity and how to rebuild trust."
"You've been reading." Her voice is bitter. "Great. That fixes everything."
"I know it doesn't! But it's a start. I'm trying to understand why I did this so I can make sure I never do it again."
"And what if you can't change? What if this is just who you are?"
"Then I'll spend the rest of my life trying anyway. Because losing you is not an option."
She's quiet for a long moment, and I can see her struggling. Wanting to believe me. Afraid to believe me.
"I don't know if I can trust you again," she finally says.
"I understand. But I'm asking you to let me try to earn it back."
"How long will that take? Months? Years?"
"However long it takes."
"And what if I decide it's not worth it? What if I decide I'm better off without you?"
The question makes my chest tight. "Then I'll have to accept that. But please, Susanna. Please don't decide that yet. Give me a chance to show you I can change."
She walks past me into the kitchen. I follow, keeping my distance.
She pours herself a glass of water and stands at the sink, looking out the window.
"I saw the flowers," she says quietly.
"I wanted the house to feel welcoming. For you."
"It's been three days, Teller. Three days of you cleaning and reading and thinking. That's not changing. That's panic."
"You're right. But it's also the beginning of change. I can't undo what I did. But I can show you, every day, that I'm different now."
She turns to face me. "I want to believe you. But I'm scared."
"Of what?"
"Of being stupid. Of giving you another chance and having you do this again. Of wasting more years on someone who doesn't actually want to be with me."
"I do want to be with you. More than anything."
"Then why did you stay out until after midnight with other women? Why did you text them constantly? Why did you make me feel like I was crazy for being upset?"
"Because I'm an idiot. Because I was so caught up in feeling needed that I didn't see what I was doing to you. Because I took you for granted."
"You did. You took me completely for granted."
"I know. And I'm so sorry."
She sets her water glass down. "I'm going to stay here tonight. But we're sleeping in separate rooms."
"Okay."
"And I want you to find a therapist. Not just research them. Actually make an appointment."
"I will. Today."
"And I want complete transparency. Your phone, your email, everything. No more secrets."
"Done. You can have all my passwords right now."
She studies me for a long moment. "This is your one chance, Teller. If you fuck this up, we're done. Do you understand?"
"I understand."
"I mean it. One more lie, one more late night, one more time you make me feel crazy for trusting my instincts, and I'm gone."
"I won't. I promise."
"Don't promise. Just do it."
She walks past me toward the stairs. "I'm going to take a nap. Don't bother me."
"Okay."
She pauses at the bottom of the stairs. "Teller?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm not ready to forgive you yet. I don't know if I ever will be. But I'm willing to see if you can actually change."
"That's all I'm asking for."
She nods and heads upstairs.
I stand in the kitchen, my heart pounding, my hands shaking.
She's giving me a chance.
One chance.
I can't fuck this up.