The Velvet Box and the Hidden Truth: A Story of Betrayal, Courage, and Choosing Yourself – Page 6

Confrontation

That night, after Emily went to bed, I told him I knew.

He didn’t deny it.

Apologies tumbled out: he was sorry; he loved me; it didn’t mean anything.

I handed him the duffel bag I’d already packed.

“You can explain it to your daughter tomorrow,” I said firmly. “But you won’t be staying here tonight.”

He left. I sat on the couch, not crying, just listening as the silence relearned my name.

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