Page 39 of The Humiliated Wife
But she couldn’t.
Because she was standing in front of twenty-three children who needed her calm and steady and whole.
So instead, she smiled. She graded papers. She answered questions. And she let the anger smolder just beneath her skin like a fever that wouldn’t break.
Fiona perchedon her small chair at the front, a well-worn copy of the middle grade novel in her hands. Across the reading circle twenty-three fifth-graders sat cross-legged on the carpet.
Today the story was about someone leaving, someone being left behind. She'd been teaching this book for three years, but today every word felt like it was written specifically for her broken life.
"So," she said, closing the book and taking a deep breath, "Nora's gone. And Emmett is angry. Really, really angry." She looked around the circle. "Who can tell me why anger sometimes shows up when we're actually sad?"
A few hands shot up immediately—the usual suspects, the ones who always had something to say. But Fiona's eyes drifted to Marcus, slouched in the back corner, hood pulled low. He'd been quiet all week. Quieter than usual.
"Marcus?" she said softly. "What do you think?"
He looked up, startled. "I don't know."
"That's okay. But I have a feeling you might know more than you think." She leaned forward slightly. "Have you ever been really sad about something, but it came out as mad instead?"
Marcus shrugged, but his eyes stayed on hers.
"Because sometimes," Fiona continued, "anger feels safer than sad. Anger makes us feel strong. Sad makes us feel..." She paused, letting them fill in the blank.
"Weak," whispered Ava.
"Small," added Isaiah.
"Scared," came a voice from the back. Marcus.
Fiona felt that familiar flutter in her chest—the moment when a classroom shifted, when walls came down and real learning began.
"Exactly," she said. "So when Emmett gets mad at Nora for leaving, what’s he really feeling?"
"Scared," Marcus said, louder this time. "Because now he's alone."
The words hung in the air, heavy with more than just literary analysis.
Fiona nodded. "And what do you think Emmett needs? To feel less alone?"
"Someone to listen," said Lily.
“A hug,” added Carlos.
"Someone who gets it," Marcus said quietly.
Fiona's throat tightened. "Yes. All of those things." She looked directly at Marcus. "Sometimes the bravest thing we can do is let someone see us when we're sad instead of just when we're angry. Because that's when we find out who really cares about us."
Marcus's eyes were bright, but he didn't look away.
"Mr. Marcus," Fiona said gently, "would you like to be my helper today? I could use someone to organize the book bins during lunch."
Marcus nodded.
The bell rang, and twenty-two fifth-graders scrambled for their backpacks and lunch boxes, chattering about recess plans and cafeteria pizza. Marcus stayed put, fiddling with his pencil.
Once the room was empty, Fiona moved to sit beside him on the carpet.
"Rough week?" she asked.
