Page 36 of Letting Go

“You knew. And the whole bullshit about‘it just happened’?” I shake my head, voice shaking now too, but not with sympathy. “It didn’t. That’s not how cheating works. It’s not gravity. It doesn’t justhappen.”

She flinches again. But I keep going, because I can’t stop. Not now. Not when it’s finally pouring out.

“You don’t fall into someone’s bed like it’s an open manhole. You don’t trip and end up on top of your sister’s husband. Youchosethis. Every step of it.”

Her lips press together like she’s trying to hold in another cry, and I swear if she cries again, I’ll-

“I don’t care if he said he missed me. I don’t care if you were mad at Mom and Dad. I don’t care if your car got taken away or your life was crumbling or the stars aligned and he looked at you just the right way. You. Chose. Him.”

A silence falls between us, heavy like smoke. She’s shaking again, but quieter this time. I don’t know if it’sfrom grief or shame or just the cold truth finally sinking in.

And I sit there, watching her.

Because yeah, I blame her. And yeah, I blame him more.

But right now, Keira’s the one in front of me. And someone has to hold the weight.

I stare at her, and something itches in the back of my brain. A flicker of memory, something she said earlier.

"You called himMichael," I say.

She looks confused for half a second, like she doesn’t understand why that matters, and then her face drains. Oh, she knows.

I lean forward, elbows on the table, voice steady in that way people get right before they completely lose it.

"Did you get the same speech?" I ask. "How he hates that name? How it sounds too formal, too cold? How only people who don’treallyknow him call him that?"

Keira says nothing.

"And yet," I go on, "coming fromyourlips, he liked it."

I don’t say it with venom. Not even bitterness. Just... disappointment. That hollow, echoing kind that feels like standing in an empty house after everyone’s left.

Her face crumples like wet paper. But I don’t flinch. I’ve given her enough softness for a lifetime.

"You don’t accidentally get that close to someone," I say, my voice quieter now. Not soft, just drained. "You don’t learn his secrets. His little preferences. You don’t call himMichaelunless you’re meant to feel like the exception."

She tries to speak again, but I hold up a hand.

"Don’t say it just happened. Don’t tell me it was a mistake. You knew what you were doing. You might not have meant for it to go that far, but you knew it was wrong. And you still did it anyway."

Keira swallows hard, like the truth is made of glass and she's been chewing it this whole time.

I sit back; my hands suddenly cold against the mug. The tea’s definitely cold now. Fitting.

"Are you still with him?" I ask. Voice like a blade under velvet. I don’t blink.

She flinches like I slapped her.

Her mouth trembles. “No. Not… not anymore. I-I haven’t seen him since yesterday. I swear.”

I just nod. Slowly.

“Good,” I say. “Because if you were, I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t bespeakingto you.”

Her eyes widen. There’s fear there now. Real fear. Not of me, but of the distance that just stretched wide between us, and the knowledge that she may never close it again.

I stand. She doesn’t follow.

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