That shut him up. His lips stretched into a thin line. But that kind of silence makes you realize how many words were never said, and how many were just noise. I stared at him. Not the man I married, but the man he became—slick, tired, hollow, a cheat. Never enough to hold on to.
Then I walked over to the kitchen drawer—the one where I used to keep Liam’s vitamins and little love notes from when Zach still left them. Now, it held something else. I dropped the envelope on the marble counter, making his face pale.
“No.” He shook his head vehemently. “You’re not doing this, Ari. You’re upset, but you’re not—”
“I’m so done with you,” I said, my voice steady. “And not just with this conversation. With all the lies you made. With the emotional coupons you hand me every time you mess up and call it pressure. With being the woman you only remember when your guilt knocks louder than your ego.”
“This is absurd, Ari,” he snapped, gritting his teeth.
“You know what’s absurd? It’s that you tried your best hiding your affair, but you didn't succeed.”
He looked down at the papers in his hand like they burned in his palm. Heavy. Final.