Chapter 40
DO TWO WRONGS MAKE A RIGHT?
NATALIE
After the gala the days jumbled together I had mixed emotions about everything. I kept wondering, do I try to save my marriage?
Jason did his usual traveling and was back on a Thursday evening.
It was late when he arrived, and the house was quiet.
I pretended to be asleep when I heard the front door click shut, but my heart raced as his footsteps echoed down the hallway.
He tiptoed into our room, careful not to wake me, and tossed his suitcase onto the chair in the corner.
I heard the water turn on in the bathroom and the sound of the shower muffled behind the door. Something about his movements felt different, mechanical, distant, as if he were a stranger in his own home. I wanted to close my eyes and drift away, but something inside me pushed me to get up.
I made a decision I hadn’t made in a long time. I decided to join him.
The bathroom was filled with steam when I stepped inside.
Jason turned when he heard the shower door open.
His face was startled. He didn’t say anything, just watched as I stepped under the spray.
For a moment, we simply looked at each other with the water cascading between us.
I moved closer and kissed him, testing whether I still felt anything.
His lips were familiar, yet they felt different, softer, more hesitant.
A part of me still wanted him. I wanted to feel a connection again and to bridge the growing chasm between us. I wanted him to want me, too.
We started kissing passionately, an unspoken plea, a desperate attempt to hold onto what was slipping away. Jason turned me around and pushed me gently against the shower wall, his hands firm but trembling. He entered me, and the moment was over almost as quickly as it began.
As we dried off, the silence between us felt heavy, almost suffocating. The intimacy we had shared moments ago already evaporated into a distant memory.
“How was New York?” I asked, breaking the quiet.
“Fine,” he replied, his voice flat, devoid of any real emotion. “We accomplished what we went there for.”
“Who’s we?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light.
“My team.”
“Shannon?” I added, testing the waters.
Jason froze for a moment. His expression betrayed a flicker of surprise. “Yes, Shannon was there. Why do you ask?”
“Just curious” I say, tilting my head.
“I just don’t think I’ve ever mentioned her.”
I took a deep breath. “She was texting you a lot last weekend… I looked. I’m sorry.”
His face hardened, but then his eyes softened. He sat down on the edge of the bed and sighed.
“Okay. What do you want to know?”
“Are you having an affair with her?” The words came out before I could stop them.
Jason’s gaze dropped to the floor, and he exhaled shakily.
“No,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I thought about it. I kissed her… one time…and I’m so sorry, Natalie. I shouldn’t have let it get that far.”
His eyes filled with tears as he looked up at me, his voice cracking.
“I’ve been such an idiot. I’ve been distant, distracted, and I let things get blurry with her.
But it never went further than that. I swear.
I stopped it. I couldn’t do that to you.
To us.” He paused, wiping at his face like he was ashamed of his emotions.
“I think she wanted more, and I should have shut it down earlier. I’ve been so caught up in work, and I’ve been failing you, Natalie. I’m so sorry.”
I had already known, hadn’t I? The late nights, the vague answers, the emotional distance all made sense now.
I wanted to cry. A lump formed in my throat as I tried to steady my breathing.
This was the moment, wasn’t it? The moment I should tell him about Will.
I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.
My lips trembled as the weight of my own guilt pressed down on me.
The words were right there on the edge of my tongue, but I couldn’t manage to say them. How could I?
Jason’s face was etched with regret. His voice was heavy with remorse. Would my confession shatter whatever fragile piece of us still remained? Instead, I simply got up and walked toward the bed.
Then I turned back. “I just want to be alone tonight.”
Jason hesitated, his brow furrowed, but he didn’t argue. He nodded and gathered a pillow from the bed. “I’ll sleep downstairs,” he said softly, his voice filled with an unspoken sadness.
I climbed into bed, pulling the covers tightly around me, and listened as Jason’s footsteps retreated down the hall.
The sound of his movements downstairs was faint, almost ghostlike, and soon, the house fell into silence.
But I didn’t sleep. I lay there, staring into the darkness, the weight of everything we had said, and hadn’t said, crushing me.
The next morning, I lay stiffly in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. The quiet hum of the house felt oppressive, wrapping around me like a heavy fog. I heard Jason’s footsteps on the stairs, slow and hesitant. A moment later, the door creaked open, and he stepped inside.
“Natalie,” he said softly, his voice thick with regret.
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t.
He walked over to the bed and hesitated for a moment before sitting down on the edge. The mattress slightly dipped under his weight, and I felt his hand graze my arm lightly.
“I’m so sorry,” he murmured. “For everything. For being so absent. For letting things get this bad.”
I could feel the warmth of his hand on my shoulder now, as if he was trying to ground me, reach me. Before I could protest, Jason slid into the bed beside me. He wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me gently toward him.
“I miss you,” he whispered into my hair. “I miss us. I don’t know how to fix this, but I want to try. Please tell me we can try.”
“Jason,” I said finally, my voice a whisper. “Please don’t.”
His arm loosened, and I turned away, pulling the covers tighter around me. He let out a heavy sigh. The sound was filled with a mixture of regret and defeat.
“I understand,” he said, his voice barely audible.
But as I lay there, my heart pounding, I knew I couldn’t let him think he was the only one guilty. How could I let him carry the weight of our broken marriage alone? How could I not tell him the truth?
I sat up. “Jason,” I said quietly, my voice trembling. My hands twisted nervously in the sheets. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
He turned to face me. His expression was wary but calm. “What is it?”
I took a deep breath, my chest tightening as I forced the words out. “I slept with someone.”
His face fell. The color drained from his cheeks. He stared at me, his mouth slightly open, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“What?” he asked, his voice tinged with shock and disbelief.
I nodded, tears welling up in my eyes. “It wasn’t planned. I didn’t mean for it to happen, but it did, and I’m so sorry.”
My voice broke on the last word, and I felt my chest heave as I tried to hold back the sob building inside me.
Jason sat frozen for a moment, his jaw tightening. He ran a hand through his hair. His movements were stiff and deliberate, like he was trying to hold himself together. “When?” he finally asked, with his voice low and uneven.
“Not that long ago,” I said it low, like the words burned on the way out. “It was a mistake, Jason. I don’t even know how I let it happen… I was lonely, and I felt invisible. I know that’s not an excuse.”
His eyes closed for a long moment, and when he opened them again, they glistened with unshed tears.
“Natalie…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “Why didn’t you tell me? You had the perfect opportunity last night.”
“I didn’t want to hurt you,” I said, my voice cracking.
“I didn’t want to hurt us. After what you said about Shannon, I realized I couldn’t keep hiding it.
I couldn’t let you carry all the guilt. I couldn’t form the words last night; I know I should have told you then, and not let you think. ..you were the only one.”
Jason stared at me. His expression was a mixture of pain and something else I couldn’t quite read, maybe understanding, maybe resignation. He didn’t speak right away, and the silence between us felt unbearable, stretching on a road we couldn’t cross.
“Maybe we both need a break,” I said, the words spilling out before I could stop them. “We’re always apart. And I don’t think we’d do this to each other if we were happy.”
Jason nodded slowly, his jaw tightening. “I’m going to stay at a hotel tonight,” he said after a long pause. “I need some space.”
It didn’t surprise me. That was Jason’s way, avoiding confrontation and retreating when things got tough. He also deserved time to process this. What I did was worse. He didn’t cross the line. I had, quietly and completely, and he still didn’t know it was Will.
When he left, I cried harder than I ever had before. The tears came in waves, relentless and uncontrollable. I cried for the hurt, for the betrayal, for the mess we had become. I cried for the love we once shared, now buried under years of resentment and neglect.
I wanted to call Meredith, and eventually, I did. But when she offered to fly here, I told her no.
“I need to figure this out,” I said through tears. “I just…need some time alone.”
What I really wanted though was to call Will. My finger hovered over his name in my phone, but I stopped myself. I knew that wasn’t the answer. I needed to feel my emotions fully, to sit with the pain and the grief without distraction.
The next few weeks/days/hours I moved through the motions of my life like a ghost, barely present. Somehow, the kids didn’t notice anything was wrong. Jason was gone so much recently that his absence didn’t feel out of the ordinary.
Later in the week, Jason called. His voice was careful, measured. “Can I take Bebe and James to dinner tonight?” he asked.
“They would love that,” I said, forcing my voice to sound normal.
When Jason arrived at the house, Bebe tilted her head. “Why aren’t you coming, Mom?” Her innocent curiosity bruised me, but I forced a smile.
“I have to catch up on some laundry,” I said, feigning a casual tone. “It’s Daddy’s special night with you guys.”
Skipping toward the door, she seemed satisfied with the answer. The moment the door closed, the house felt impossibly quiet, like all life had been drained from it.
The silence pressed down on me, heavy and suffocating, until I finally reached for my phone. I called Meredith.
“Nat, pour yourself a glass of wine,” she said as soon as she answered. “And then go smoke a joint.”
I laughed despite myself. “You know drugs are not always the answer, right?”
“Right now, you don’t need answers,” she countered. Her tone was playful but firm. “You need to numb yourself for a bit. Stop thinking so damn much.”
“Okay,” I murmured.
When Jason and the kids came back, I heard their excited chatter before the door even opened. Bebe burst into the house, her arms full of stuffed animals and a giant rainbow slinky. James followed close behind, clutching a bag of candy and a toy basketball hoop.
“Mommy!” Bebe squealed, running into the room. “We went to Dave & Buster’s! Daddy let us play so many games and look what I won!”
She spread the stuffed animals out on the floor like a proud collector showing off her treasures.
James chimed in. His eyes were wide with excitement. “I got the most tickets from this claw machine, Mommy. And Daddy won us a bunch, too!”
Jason walked in a few moments later, holding two plastic cups filled with red slushy. “We might have overdone it a little,” he said with a sheepish grin, setting the cups down on the counter. “But they had fun.”
The kids launched into more stories, their voices overlapping as they described the arcade games, the flashing lights, and the prizes they picked out. I smiled briefly, letting their joy fill the room, but underneath it, a pang of sadness lingered.
Jason caught my eye, and his expression softened. He looked like he wanted to say something, but the moment passed, and instead, he ruffled James’ hair.
After the kids ran off to put their prizes in their rooms, Jason lingered near the doorway. He rubbed the back of his neck, hesitating.
“Natalie,” he said finally, his tone careful, “would it be okay if I stayed here tonight? In the guest room?”
I looked at him for a long moment, trying to gauge his expression. There was no trace of anger or blame, just exhaustion and something that almost looked like hope.
“Of course,” I said quietly, my voice steady.
He nodded, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Thank you.”
Jason turned around and without another word headed toward the guest room. I heard the door click shut behind him. I stayed where I was as the silence once again enveloped me. Even though we were under the same roof, Jason felt farther away than ever.
Is this it? Was this how our story ended? Not with a bang, but with a slow, painful unraveling? Would this be our future? Jason taking the kids to Dave & Buster’s, winning prizes and playing games, while I stayed home alone, watching bad TV and drowning in the silence?
The thought settled over me like a heavy fog, thick and inescapable.
I tried to picture another version of us, one where we found our way back to each other, where the house was filled with laughter we shared, not just the kids’ joy carried back from somewhere I wasn’t. But I couldn’t see it. The gap between us felt too wide. The cracks were too deep.
I didn’t have the answers. And as the ache in my chest grew heavier all I knew was that something had to change.