But her refusal to answer changed the atmosphere in the room.
The confidence she’d shown on my porch had disappeared.
The truth Tyler didn’t want to hear
I looked at my husband.
For eighteen years, I’d tried to understand him.
I’d believed his explanations.
Defended him when he worked late.
And ignored the small signs that something was wrong.
But now he was sitting across from me, questioning whether the woman he’d chosen was telling him the truth.
I almost felt sorry for him.
Almost.
Then I remembered the previous months.
The expensive restaurant charge.
The unexplained phone calls.
The familiar excuses.
And the fact that he’d allowed Rachel to arrive at my front door and demand my house.
Whatever Rachel had told him, Tyler had made his own choices.
He had been the one who promised to remain faithful.
He had been the one who hid a relationship from his wife.
And he had been the one who expected me to surrender my home.
