swallowed against a tightening throat.
“Thank you for saying that.”
“That’s it?”
The question would once have wounded me. Now I understood it as proof of the distance between us.
“What were you expecting?”
“I don’t know.”
For once, the uncertainty sounded genuine.
“Maybe forgiveness.”
“I forgive you.”
He was silent, then asked, “You do?”
“Yes.”
I heard hope enter his voice and made the distinction immediately.
“Daniel, forgiveness is not reconciliation.”
“I know.”
“I don’t want to be married to you.” GetMarriage Tips
“I know.”
“I don’t want another chance.”
“I know.”
“But I also don’t want to spend the next twenty years angry.”
“Okay.”
“So yes. I forgive you.”
After another pause, he admitted, “I miss you.”
I looked around the peaceful kitchen: one coffee cup, basil at the window, a blue towel over the oven handle, a shopping list written entirely by me. Peace wasn’t the absence
