And he did not get to rewrite the previous year as a spontaneous romance that had simply happened to him.
His own messages prevented that.
Heather disappeared from the center of Elise’s attention surprisingly quickly.
There had been a time when Elise thought seeing the woman’s name would always make her stomach tighten.
But Heather had never made vows to her.
Bennett had.
That distinction mattered.
Elise stopped checking social media.
She stopped wondering whether they were together.
She stopped imagining conversations she would never have.
Her life became quieter.
Her paycheck went into the account she controlled.
Bills were no longer accompanied by the suspicion that someone was moving money behind her back.
When she opened a statement, the numbers meant what they appeared to mean.
That simplicity felt almost luxurious.
Months later, near the end of the divorce process, Bennett asked to speak with her privately.
Elise agreed only after Naomi confirmed there was no legal reason not to, and they met in a neutral place during the daytime.
Bennett looked older.
Not dramatically.
Just less polished.
The confidence that had once filled every silence seemed thinner.
“I never thought you’d actually leave,” he said.
Elise held his gaze.
“I know.”
He looked down.
“That message about you needing security…”
“I remember it.”
“I was cruel.”
“Yes.”
“I thought you needed me.”
Elise considered that.
For years, she had thought so too.
Not because Bennett had been stronger or more capable, but because their marriage had slowly taught her to confuse stability with endurance.
“I needed honesty,” she said.
“You offered me dependence instead.”
He swallowed.
“I messed everything up.”
Elise did not rescue him from the sentence.
There was a time when she would have softened immediately, reassuring him even while she was hurting.
Now she let the truth stand between them without decoration.
Bennett looked at her for several seconds.
“Is there any chance we could start over?”
The question surprised her only because it arrived so late.
She remembered the suitcase.
The black shirt.
The glowing phone screen.
If you want a divorce, get one.
She remembered the laptop.
The hidden account.
She’ll never leave.
She needs security too much.
And finally:
Once I’ve built up enough money in the other account, I’m walking away clean.
Elise shook her head.
“No.”
There was no anger in it.
