Then, quietly, “I’m sorry I let something stupid become something humiliating.”
Closer.
Still not enough.
You lean against the table. “Did you know she was telling people that?”
He hesitates.
Again, answer enough.
“You did.”
“I heard it once,” he says quickly. “Maybe twice. I corrected her privately.”
“Clearly with stunning results.”
His jaw tightens. “I didn’t think it would escalate.”
There it is.
Not malice.
Worse, in some ways.
Male laziness dressed as optimism.
You know Ethan. He probably did tell Madison some version of slow down, not yet, don’t complicate this. And then let the rest blur because the attention was flattering, the loneliness after separation was real, the divorce dragged on, and her adoration required less honesty than his grief. None of that excuses anything. But understanding the architecture of a bad choice is not the same as forgiving it.
You fold your arms.
“Did you marry her?”
“No.”
