Chapter Three
Tessa was putting groceries away when she heard the garage door. Mark was home very early—the kids were still in school—her heart beat faster—did something happen?
The door to the kitchen opened and there he was—tall, broad-shouldered, tie loosened, an unfamiliar tightness in his expression that made her stomach knot.
"We need to talk," he said.
Something cold slid through her chest. "Okay," she answered carefully, "About what?"
He didn't sit. He lingered in the doorway, shifting his weight from one foot to the other like he wasn't sure whether to come in or turn around. His hand brushed against the frame, then dropped uselessly to his side.
"There's... something I need to tell you,” He began.
He cleared his throat. "It's... it's about work.
Well, not just work." He stopped, ran a hand over his face, and tried again.
"There's this new hire, Kate. We've been assigned to the same projects, so we've been spending a lot of time together.
And she's—" He broke off, fumbling, rubbing the back of his neck.
For a moment, it looked like he might backtrack, bury the words and walk away. But then the silence pressed too hard.
"I've started to... to have feelings for her," he said finally, the admission tumbling out in a rush he couldn't pull back.
Her silence stretched; he rushed to fill it. "I'm confused... and I don't know if I'm still in love with you."
For a second it didn't compute. Then the room tilted. What did he say? The words swirled like jagged shards blown around by a windstorm—feelings for her... not in love with you...
She blurted the first thing that emerged from the fog, "Are you sleeping with her?"
"No." Too quick, too defensive. "No, Tessa. We haven't— I haven't crossed that line. But I'm... I'm confused. I don't know if—"
"But you've kissed her? Touched her? You want to sleep with her?"
He looked away, heat blooming up his neck.
The room suddenly felt airless. Her Mark, her husband, her only lover, had kissed—held—desired someone who wasn't her. A small sound escaped her, half-gasp, half-whimper as she started to sway.
"Tessa!" Mark reached out to steady her, but she took a step backward, leaning against the counter, her face drained of color.
Her voice came out in a hoarse whisper, "Are you in love with her?"
His hesitation was answer enough, but he still murmured, "I don't know. Maybe. I care about her."
Her fingers curled into her palms until her nails dug into the skin. She repeated his words back to him, almost tonelessly, "You... you care about her. Maybe even love her." She shook her head slightly; the information was so foreign, so unexpected that she was unable to process it.
This is really happening to me right now, not to someone else, it's happening to me. Mark is saying these words to me.
She swallowed, her mind a whirl of pain and confusion. Another question blurted out, "Is she young? Beautiful?"
His silence stretched too long. "She's... younger than us. Twenty-four. She's attractive, but that's not why...."
Pain slid hot through her chest, "How long has this been going on?"
He winced. "It's not—we've been talking about two months or so."
Tessa rolled her eyes, "Oh, talking." She suddenly recalled some company event—the pretty young woman who'd introduced herself as Kate.
Mark had mentioned they were working on a project together.
Tessa hadn't thought much of it. He'd never given her cause to be jealous. That had been four months ago, not two.
So, for about four months he'd been building something new and exciting with lovely Kate, while she'd been at home, blindly supporting, loving, keeping together what they had built. But like a sand castle too close to the water, while she had been building on one side, his side was washing away.
For a fraction of a second, she almost told him—almost blurted out there was another baby on the way.
But the thought of his face, his voice, measuring the news like an obligation, kept her silent.
He had chosen this moment to tell her that he didn't know if she had a place in his heart anymore; she would not hand him their child and watch him weigh it.
She pulled her thoughts back into line, "So, what's your plan? Are you going to start over with her? Leave me, leave our kids?"
Mark's head snapped up. "No, that's not— I'm not saying I'm leaving."
"Yes, you are." She repeated it slowly when he looked confused, "Yes, you are--leaving."
His eyes widened, "No, that's not why I told you."
"No? What did you expect, Mark?" Her tone sharpened, rage building.
"You come home in the middle of the day to tell me you have feelings for another woman, that you are kissing---" she forced out the words, "kissing her, and that you might love her.
You tell me that you don't even know if you love me anymore and you expect me to.
.. what? Make you dinner? Let you sleep with me while you decide if you want your marriage?
Or maybe you want us both—me dutifully tending your home and children while you kiss and snuggle and whatever else you do with your new love, Kate. "
He flinched. "No, I just thought—"
"You thought wrong," she said, cutting him off. She strode past him toward the stairs.
"Tessa, wait!" He called after her. But she was already half way up the stairs, her head high, her shoulders stiff.
She closed the bedroom door and leaned against it, the tremor in her hands spreading through her whole body. For a long time, she stared at nothing, letting the pain hit in waves.
Finally, she slid to the floor, wrapped her arms around her knees, and cried—until her throat burned and her head throbbed. Her palm drifted to her stomach, a small, protective gesture she barely registered.
When the clock said it was time to get the kids, she pulled herself together, wiped her face, and smoothed her features into a mask no one at pickup would question.
When Tessa came down from her bedroom to leave for school pickup, Mark was gone, presumably to a hotel, or to Kate's? Her insides knotted at the thought.
That night, after getting the kids to bed and making some excuse to them about Mark having to work late, Tessa sat on the edge of the bed, her body rigid, her hands trembling in her lap.
The words still echoed in her head, louder than her own heartbeat. I have feelings for her... I don't know if I still love you.
Sobs tore through her chest. She pressed both hands over her mouth to stifle the sound—half afraid the kids might wake, half afraid she might unravel completely if she let go.
Suddenly everything made sense. The late nights at the office, the meetings that ran long.
The texting at meals, at bedtime, even during their conversations.
How many times had she started to tell him about her day—something funny the kids said, a frustration with a homework assignment—only to watch his eyes glaze over, looking through her instead of at her, his focus shifting to his phone as it buzzed?
When she showed interest in his work, asked how his project was going, he would give her short, dismissive replies--"It's really complicated," or "I work all day--I don't want to talk about work at home.
" She accepted that as reasonable, and tried to accommodate him by giving him the space he seemed to need.
She knew in her head that it wasn't her fault, but the doubt pressed in anyway.
Had she become dull, uninteresting? Early on in their marriage, they had decided together that she would stay home when the kids were little, nurturing and caring for them, and then one day, it would be her turn to follow her dreams. So right now, her whole life revolved around the kids and the home—but they were his kids, his home, too.
Now that she thought about it, lately he seemed almost indifferent to it all, as if none of it mattered to him anymore. She blamed it on distractions at work. But now she saw it clearly—his mind, his heart was already somewhere else, with someone else.
And somewhere along the way, he'd stopped wanting her.
She had never doubted her looks before— she knew she was still attractive, if the appreciative looks and comments she sometimes caught from men at the grocery store or kids' events were any proof.
But now she thought of Kate's youth, her freshness, her dark hair and compact frame and felt herself faded and invisible by comparison.
She pressed her arms around herself, remembering how often he'd been too tired to make love.
And when he did reach for her, it had felt like he was somewhere else, his body there but his mind drifting away from her.
She had blamed stress, deadlines, exhaustion.
She had told herself it was just another rough period they would overcome, as they had before.
But now she knew. It wasn't stress. It wasn't exhaustion. It was Kate. He hadn't just been distracted—he had been falling in love with someone else right in front of her, and she had been too blind, too trusting, to see it.
Mark had kissed Kate, touched her, wanted her.
Mark—the boy she had loved since they were teenagers, the one who had promised her forever, the only man she had ever kissed or slept with.
Now he had given something precious, something that had belonged to them alone, to someone else.
Had he thought of Kate while making love to her?
The thought made her sick. She doubled over, the betrayal twisting into real, physical pain.
After several long minutes, she reached for her phone with shaking hands. Her thumb scrolled her contacts without really seeing them. Her mom was the first name she landed on, but she quickly shook her head—she couldn't bear to hear her mother's worried voice. Her brother was deployed overseas.
Rachel was a friend from church. Rachel's husband, David and Mark played basketball together on Tuesday nights and had drifted into an easy "guy" friendship; the four of them had shared backyard dinners and birthday parties for the kids.
Rachel had been the sister Tessa never had, her anchor more times than she could count—the one who had dropped off casseroles after Luke was born, the one who slipped her notes of encouragement on Sunday mornings, who always had time for a cup of coffee and shared burdens.
And now, when Tessa felt like she was dissolving, Rachel was the only person she could think to call.
The line picked up on the second ring.
"Tessa? Hey, what's wrong?" Rachel's voice was warm, instantly concerned.
Tessa's words were choked with tears. "He.
.. Mark... he told me today that he doesn't know if he loves me anymore.
And—and there's someone else. A woman from work.
Kate. He says they've kissed--he says they haven't slept together, but I don't know what to believe.
And what's even worse, it's not just physical, he might be in love with her. "
There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end. "Oh, Tessa..."
Tessa pressed her palm against her eyes. "I don't even know how I'm saying the words out loud. I thought we were solid. I thought—we had a life, kids, a marriage worth fighting for. And now I don't even know what's real anymore."
Rachel was quiet for a long moment. When she finally spoke, her tone was gentle. "I'm so sorry Tessa. I don't know what to say, except we're here for you, whatever you need."
Tessa's throat tightened. The kindness made the tears spill faster. "But Rachel, he looked me in the eye and said he didn't know if he loved me. After everything—our history, our kids. We're not enough for him anymore. I'm not enough..." Her voice collapsed, and she broke down again.
"I told him to leave, and I think he went to a hotel, but I'm not going to let him stay at the house and pretend he cares about me. I don't know what to do--what do I tell the kids?"
"Don't try to figure it all out tonight," Rachel urged gently.
"Just breathe. Take the next step. You're not alone--it might not feel like it, but God sees and cares, and I'm here for you too.
..and Tessa, don't you dare believe the lie that this is your fault, that you are lacking and that is why he strayed.
You are a beautiful, generous, intelligent, godly woman, with qualities most men would kill for.
Whatever happens, we're here for you--both me and David. "
Tessa squeezed her eyes shut, clutching the phone tighter. She felt the first moment of calm since Mark had blown up her world this afternoon. She wasn't walking into the storm alone.
"Thank you," she whispered, her voice raw. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
"You'll never have to find out," Rachel promised.