Page 36 of October
"And honestly? I'm not even sure if you really love October."
That one knocked the wind out of me. "What?!" My voice broke out of me like an open wound. "Of course I love her! Why do you all keep saying that?"
Beth didn't respond right away. I could hear her breathing on the other end—steady, like she was forcing herself to stay grounded while I fell apart.
"Because we've spentyearswatching how much she adores you," she said finally. "You were her whole world, Thomas. And all she ever wanted was to be yours too. But you gave her the bare minimum. And when Laura came into the picture? Eventhatdisappeared."
I felt something inside me crack. I wanted to argue. Wanted to defend myself. But what would I say? That I was busy? That I was building a future for us?
"I'm not an expressive person," I muttered. "Youknowthat."
"I do," Beth said. "I know you're guarded. I know you weren't raised to be soft or open. You were raised to lead. To perform. To conquer. But Thomas... even the most stoic manshows upwhen it matters. Even the quietest men find ways to say 'I see you, I care, I'm here.'"
I lowered my head into my hands.
"She waited for you," Beth added. "Longer than she should've. And now she's protecting herself the only way she can. By walking away."
I let the silence sit for a long time before speaking again, voice barely a whisper.
"Beth..." My voice cracked, barely a whisper. "What do I do now?"
There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Then a sigh—quiet, tired, full of sibling heartbreak.
"First," she said gently, "you give her space. You respect that. Don't call. Don't show up uninvited. She's been drowning inyour absence for years—don't smother her now that you finally noticed."
I swallowed hard, the guilt settling like lead in my throat.
"Okay," I said. "And then?"
"And then," Beth continued, her voice a little firmer, "you take care of what's in front of you. You deal with Dad. You told me you're building a case, that you've seen things at the company that don't sit right. Handle it. Protect yourself."
I rubbed my eyes with the heel of my hand. "You think I still can?"
"I think," she said slowly, "you can't fix your marriage—or anything else—until you fixyourself."
I stayed quiet, her words sinking in.
"You've spent your whole life chasing Dad's approval," she went on. "Becoming whathewanted. Living in his image. And look where it got you. You don't even recognize yourself anymore, do you?"
I didn't answer. Because she was right.
"You need to figure out who you are when he's not pulling the strings. When you're not trying to impress him. And you need tobe therefor your family. Whether you're October's husband or not—those kids are still yours. She still matters. Even if legally... she won't be yours anymore."
That last line hit like a punch to the ribs.
"Beth..." I croaked.
"I know," she said, softer now. "I know it hurts. But pain doesn't excuse absence. Fix what you can. Accept what you broke. And if you ever want a chance of rebuilding anything—anything—start by showing up. Not with flowers. Not with promises. But with real, honest, consistent presence."
Tears slid down my face before I could stop them.
"Thank you," I whispered.
The line went quiet again. I let my head fall back, staring up at the sky. For the first time in a long time, it felt like I was seeing it without glass in between.
My father betrayed me.
My mother never protected me.
