The words landed harder than any accusation. Not shouted. Not spit like venom. Just spoken, soft and broken, like she'd finally stopped expecting me to argue.
I took a step forward, but she didn't move. She stood there like a statue carved from grief—arms slack, shoulders tense, eyes too tired to cry.
"October," I said, my voice cracking under the weight of it, "you're not collateral."
She let out a breath—just a breath—but it sounded like it had been waiting for years. "Then what am I, Thomas? Because I sure as hell don't feel like a partner. Not in this war. Not in this marriage. Not in this house."
"I didn't mean for it to be like this," I said, helpless. "I didn't want to drag you into this mess."
"But you did," she snapped. "You didn't trust me with the truth," she said, her voice shaking but still steady enough to land the blow. "You let me stand there in that damn party like a fool. While they whispered. While Laura smiled at me like she knew something I didn't. Like I was the last one in the room to get the joke."
My fists curled at my sides, nails digging into skin. I wanted to reach for her, to beg her to understand—but I knew how hollow that would sound now.
"I was trying to protect us," I said, louder, my voice breaking at the edges. "You think I wanted to dance with her? You think I liked standing there like a well-trained pet while he paraded his lies around the room? I hated it. Every goddamn second. But if I broke character—if I flinched even once—he would've smelled blood. My father always does. He would've known something was off. And if he knew—if he even suspected—I wouldn't have had time to build anything. Not a case. Not a defense. Not a way out."
I took a step toward her, desperation rising like bile. "I was scared, October. Scared that if I told you the truth, you'd do what I know your heart would demand. You'd show your disdain. You'd look at him like he was filth, like he deserves—which he does—but one look from you, one slip, and Laura would've known. You might've said something. Given her a reason to start digging. And then everything we were building, everything I was trying to protect, would've gone up in flames."
Her arms crossed tighter across her chest, like she was physically trying to keep herself from splintering apart. "So you decided to protect me by keeping me in the dark? You staged a circus act and made me the clown—and I was supposed to thank you for the seat?"
"No," I said, choking on the word. "You weren't supposed to thank me. You were supposed to stay safe."
She laughed then. Short. Harsh. Unamused. "I was never safe, Thomas. Not from your father. Not from Laura. And definitely not from you."
That silenced me.
Because I knew what she meant. I hadn't shielded her. I'd sidelined her. And now, every moment I thought I was buying us time, I was spending what little grace I had left.
Her eyes met mine then. Not angry. Not even sad anymore. Just... done.
I reached for her, took her hands in mine. They were trembling. Or maybe it was me.
"No. I'm not losing you," I said, voice shaking. "I can't. Please... forgive me for that party. I should've never—God, I should've never let it happen."
Her hands didn't close around mine. They just sat there. Cold. Still. Unmoving.
"Get out, Thomas," she said quietly.
I flinched. "No, please," I whispered, releasing her hands like they'd burned me. "Please, I can't lose you, October. You're the only constant in my life. The only thing that ever really mattered."
She didn't move.
"Leave, Thomas."
And then something in me broke. .
"I'm begging you," I choked. "Just—listen to me. Sweetheart, please. I know I failed you. I know I hurt you. But I'm still here. I'm still yours. Please don't shut the door on me yet. Please."
A voice, sharp and steady, cut through the room like a blade.
"She told you to leave. You better listen."
I turned around.
Jimmy. 

My son. Standing in the hallway, arms crossed over his chest, face pale but eyes blazing with a quiet fury I'd never seen before.
"Jimmy..." I whispered. He took a step forward.
"Leave Mom alone," he said. "Better yet, leave us alone."
The words hit like a punch to the gut. My own son. Defending her. Protecting her—from me. I opened my mouth, but there was nothing left to say. 
And that was the moment I realized I had already lost more than I ever understood.