“I was,” he replied calmly. “Three months ago, after surgery in Chicago, I started seeing again little by little, and I didn’t tell anyone.”
My heart pounded painfully as confusion turned into something sharper.
“Why would you hide something like that from me,” I asked, barely keeping my voice steady.
He looked at me with an expression that was too calm for what he had just confessed.
“Because I knew you would run if you knew the truth too soon,” he answered quietly.
I let out a broken laugh that sounded nothing like humor.
“So instead, you lied to me and married me first,” I said, and the words felt heavy in my mouth.
“I was waiting for the right moment,” he said.
“You chose after the wedding as the right moment,” I replied, and the silence between us grew thick.
I stood up quickly, feeling the fabric of my dress against my scarred skin in a way I had not felt earlier.
“You saw me, and you said nothing,” I said, my voice shaking despite my effort to stay calm.
“I saw you before we even met,” he said, and that sentence changed the air in the room completely.
I froze, staring at him.
“What do you mean,” I asked slowly.
He took a breath and began explaining something I never expected to hear.