My throat tightened.
“You let me believe something terrible about you.”
“I know.”
“For weeks, I kept wondering whether every marriage was secretly damaged.”
Dad shook his head.
“That part I’m sorry for.”
“You should be.”
“I am.”
We sat silently.
Then I whispered:
“You really never cheated on Mom?”
“Never.”
“Not once?”
“No.”
“And all that nonsense about male physiology?”
Dad winced.
“Possibly the stupidest speech I’ve ever given.”
Despite everything, I laughed.
A real laugh.
It hurt my stitches.
“Don’t make me laugh.”
“Sorry.”
“You should be.”
He smiled.
Then his face became serious again.
“Claire, listen to me.”
I met his eyes.
“What Daniel did was Daniel’s choice.”
Dad spoke slowly.
“Pregnancy did not make him cheat. You did not make him cheat. Your son did not make him cheat. Nothing about your body, your attention, your exhaustion, or your marriage forced him to betray you.”
