"I'm learning," I whispered. "I promise."
The bedroom was dim when I walked in. Thomas was sitting on the edge of the bed like he was waiting for something.
"We need to talk," he said. "Now that we've both calmed down."
I folded my arms. "Do we?"
"I think we should," he said, standing. "I didn't want to when things were hot, but I've had time to think. About your birthday. And I want to apologize."
I let out a small, humorless laugh. "This isn't about my birthday, Thomas."
He frowned, confused. "Okay... then what's it about?"
It's about patterns," I said, pulling open my drawer, searching for something comfortable to sleep in. "It's about how you've consistently prioritized everything else—especially her—over your own family."
"Her?" he asked, voice rising.
"Laura."
He stood. "Jesus, October, Nothing is going on between me and Laura.."
I looked at him, really looked at him. "I don't believe you."
His jaw dropped like I'd slapped him.
 "Unbelievable," he muttered. "You know how busy I've been—"
"I know," I cut in. "Busy helping her. Busy being there for her. At my expense. You ignore birthdays. Date nights. Bedtime stories. But she needs a file reviewed or a late meeting? You're there."
 "She's a coworker."
"She should've been a boundary."
His brow furrowed, confusion painted across his face like he couldn't recognize me anymore.
 Disbelief twisted his features. "Since when have you become so insecure about our marriage?"
And something inside me snapped.
 Not a little crack. A rupture. A damn breaking after too many silent floods.
My voice tore out of me before I could stop it—louder than I meant, sharper than I'd ever dared.
 "Insecure?" I screamed, the word slicing through the room like shattered glass.
 "You want to know when?" My chest was heaving, my pulse roaring in my ears. "Since you started choosing her!"
I jabbed a finger toward the door, toward the building where she existed like a shadow behind every excuse he gave.
 "Again. And again. And again."
My voice cracked, but I didn't stop. I couldn't.
 "Since every time I reached for you, your mind was already somewhere else. Since you started giving her the version of you I never got—your time, your attention, your respect."
I stepped forward now, tears stinging my eyes but refusing to fall. "Don't call it insecurity just because I finally noticed." I shook my head, disbelief echoing back to him. "Don't make me the problem because I dared to feel unloved."
He looked stunned, as if I'd just pulled a curtain off a truth he wasn't ready to face.
"You don't get to ask me why I feel this way," I said, voice low but lethal now, trembling with betrayal. "Not when you made a habit of putting her first—and expected me to be grateful you never touched her because the truth is I don't care if you didn't touch her. Do you hear me?"
 My voice cracked, shaking loose from somewhere deep in my chest. "I don't care if it was physical or not. You still broke something."
My voice was shredded now, raw and splintered.
 "You didn't have to sleep with her to make me feel like I didn't matter."
"October!" he snapped, stepping closer. "You are my wife. I would never go there. I promise you—there is nothing between us." His voice was rising now, desperate. "You honestly don't believe me?"