Chapter Twenty
It had been a month since Tessa began her online classes, and life had settled into a new routine.
They'd both had to adjust—juggling work schedules, school pickups, grocery runs, doctor's appointments, and housework—but gradually the pieces fell into place.
Mark made a point of asking about what she was learning, and she found herself sharing details from lectures and assignments.
She watched for any sign that his attention might drift the way it once had, but instead he listened closely, his focus intent, as if every word she spoke were the most interesting thing in the world.
One evening, after a last-minute grocery run, Mark pulled into the driveway just as the last colors of sunset slipped from the sky.
Through the front windows, he caught sight of Tessa moving around the kitchen, her silhouette framed in the soft golden light.
She wore a simple sweater, her hair tied loosely back, one hand unconsciously brushing her rounded stomach as she worked.
For a moment, he just sat there in the car, unable to look away.
She had always been beautiful to him, but now.
.. she seemed to radiate a quiet strength and glow that left him breathless.
Something primal and aching stirred in him, a reminder of how much he wanted her—not just her body, but all of her.
After dinner, they worked side by side cleaning supper dishes.
He cracked a joke about Luke hiding his peas under the table instead of eating them, and Tessa let out a laugh—soft, unguarded.
The sound wrapped around him like music.
They bumped shoulders as they reached for the same dish towel, and she gave him a mock glare that only made his grin widen.
It felt almost like slipping back into something familiar, something warm.
He let himself imagine what it might be like if they could really find their way back.
Later, with the kids tucked in and the house finally still, Mark lingered instead of heading to the door. Tessa curled into the corner of the couch, her legs tucked beneath her, flipping absently through a magazine. He sat down next to her, heart hammering as he searched for the right words.
"You're so beautiful," he said softly, the truth spilling out before he could stop it. When she lifted her gaze, startled, he pressed on. "You always have been, Tessa. But now... it's different. You've never looked more alive. I've missed you—so much more than I can even say."
Color rose in her cheeks. For a moment she didn't speak, but she didn't move away when he shifted closer.
Tentatively, he brushed a strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering at her temple.
Their eyes met, and something in the air shifted.
The space between them dissolved as he leaned in, and when their lips finally met, the kiss was tentative at first, then deepened, fueled by months of loneliness and longing.
Her hands gripped his shirt, pulling him closer.
The warmth of her, the way her mouth moved with his, nearly undid him.
It was passion laced with desperation, a kiss that begged for lost time to be restored.
But then—he felt her body tremble beneath his touch.
At first, he thought it was desire, until he realized she was shaking.
When he pulled back, her face was wet with tears.
"Tessa?" His voice was ragged, panicked. "What's wrong?"
She shook her head, a sob catching in her throat.
Her eyes, shining with tears, searched his as though it hurt to look at him.
"It's just... I can't stop thinking about it.
You kissing her." Her voice cracked. "Before all this, Mark, you were the only person I had ever kissed.
Ever. We were each other's firsts, and I.
.. I held that so close to my heart. It was ours. Just ours."
Her voice broke completely then. She pressed her hands over her face, shoulders shaking.
"I was so protective of that, so proud that we'd only ever had each other.
And you—you just gave it away. Carelessly.
Like it wasn't sacred at all. And no matter what we do now, no matter how much I want to forget—it can never be undone. "
The words gutted him. He reached for her, but she flinched, torn between needing his comfort and recoiling from it. He sat there, hands trembling in his lap, staring at the woman he loved more than anything, realizing that some wounds cut deeper than apologies could ever reach.
"Tessa..." His whisper was raw, useless against the enormity of her pain. "I'm so sorry. I was careless with what I should have guarded with my life—what belonged only to us. I tainted something pure with selfishness and blindness. I wish every day I could give it back."
But she only shook her head, tears slipping down her cheeks. "You can't give it back, Mark. You can't ever give it back."
There was nothing to say to that. Silence settled over them, heavy and wounded, as Tessa wiped at her tears.
"There's something I need to ask you," she whispered at last. "And I hate it. I'm terrified of the answer. But if I don't, it will haunt me forever."
Mark froze, bracing himself. "Tessa..."
Her gaze lifted to his, raw and searching. "When you kissed her... was it better? Was it more passionate than with me?" Her chin quivered. "Were you more alive with her than you ever were with me?"
The words tore out of her like they'd been buried too long, festering. She pressed a hand to her mouth, eyes glistening with anguish. "I don't want to know, but I have to. Because if it was—if she gave you something I never could—then there's no hope for us."
Mark's breath caught, the weight of her question pressing down on his chest. He had dreaded this moment; the day she would ask him to put words to the most shameful thing he had done. Her eyes were fixed on him—wounded, trembling, but unflinching. She needed an answer, even if it destroyed her.
He reached for her hands, but she kept them to herself. So, he spoke anyway, his voice low, stripped bare of pretense.
"Tessa... I've torn myself apart over that.
Why I kissed her. There's no excuse, only this—I was chasing a feeling, the thrill of risk, and I had numbed my conscience.
But I want you to know there was nothing about Kate that was better than you, more attractive than you.
I can see it now. She just happened to be there at the exact moment I was feeling sorry for myself, when I thought I deserved something new.
I projected things onto her that weren't real—it was all a figment of my imagination. "
His eyes burned as he forced himself to go on. "So, when I kissed her, what I felt was this illusion—that I was living a version of a story I'd told myself, rewinding the clock. It was never about her. It was about me chasing something hollow."
Mark's hand trembled as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "And when I finally woke up... it literally made me nauseous, her touch, the emptiness of it, how wrong it felt compared to you."
Tessa's lips quivered, but she still didn't speak. He leaned closer, desperate for her to hear the truth.
His voice broke. "Tessa, those kisses weren't better.
They weren't more passionate. They were nothing.
A counterfeit. An ugly shadow of what I already had with you.
What we built—our love, our history, the fact that we were each other's firsts—that's the real thing.
That's the only thing that's ever mattered. "
Finally, he dared to reach for her hand again, his fingers shaking. "I squandered something precious. I know that. I can't undo it. But please believe me when I say... nothing with her could ever compare to you. Nothing ever will."
“As long as I’m asking hard things,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper, “there’s something else I need you to tell me honestly.”
“Ask me anything.”
“In those months when you were seeing Kate—before I knew—” she hesitated, steadying her breath, “you hardly touched me. And when we were… intimate… it felt like you were somewhere else. I told myself you were tired, that work was overwhelming, but…”
Mark’s chest tightened as realization dawned. “Tessa, I—”
“No, let me finish.” Her voice shook, but she pressed on. “I need to know. When we were together—intimately—were you thinking about her?” The question came out raw; her gaze fixed on the floor.
Mark reached out and gently lifted her chin. “Tessa, look at me. Please.”
Slowly, she met his eyes.
“Tessa,” he said softly, “I know I betrayed you in so many ways. But I need you to hear this: I never—never—imagined Kate when I was with you. Not once. I was exhausted, distracted, and full of guilt, yes. But it was because, deep down, I knew I didn’t deserve you.
I avoided closeness because every time you looked at me with love, it reminded me of how far I’d fallen short…
and how unworthy I’d become of the woman I promised to cherish. ”
Mark's gaze was steady, almost pleading. "I know words are cheap. But talking with Jeremy, with the men in my Bible study, facing the truth of what I've done—it's given me hope. Hope that I can become a different man."
Tessa pressed a hand to her stomach, a reminder of all that was at stake. Could she trust him to care for her heart again? To bind himself to her completely, to unreservedly commit himself to their life, their family?
They held each other's eyes for what felt like an eternity. She searched him, weighing his sincerity, his resolve. At last, she whispered, "You don't know how much I want to believe that."
Mark exhaled, sorrow and relief mingling. As much as he hated seeing the pain in her eyes, speaking the truth felt like lancing a wound and letting the poison drain. He had been the one to let it in, and he would keep working until every trace was gone.