Chapter 5: The Secret Behind His Anger
I stayed outside the bedroom door for almost a minute.
I knew listening was wrong.
I knew I should walk away.
But after a year of secrets being kept from me, I couldn’t bring myself to pretend I didn’t hear.
Not anymore.
Downstairs, Brandon’s voice was low.
“You should have told her yourself.””
Scott answered immediately.
“You don’t understand.””
“No, Scott. I understand exactly.””
A pause.
Then Scott said something I never expected.
“I was trying to fix it.””
My eyebrows pulled together.
Fix what?
I slowly opened the door and stepped into the hallway.
The stairs were just ahead.
I could see part of the living room from where I stood.
Brandon was standing near the couch.
Scott was pacing.
His confidence from earlier was gone.
He looked nervous.
Brandon noticed me first.
His expression changed.
Scott followed his gaze.
He stopped.
“You were listening?””
I walked downstairs.
“I was trying to understand.””
Nobody said anything.
I looked at Scott.
“What were you trying to fix?””
He didn’t answer.
That told me enough.
“Scott.””
He rubbed his face.
“Can we not do this right now?””
I almost laughed.
“Right now?””
I looked around.
“Tonight, you showed my private medical issue to your friends.””
He looked down.
“You found out about messages I never should have written.””
His jaw tightened.
“And now I find out there’s something else?””
I stepped closer.
“What were you trying to fix?””
Scott sat down.
For the first time all night, he looked tired.
Not angry.
Not defensive.
Just tired.
“I talked to someone.””
My stomach tightened.
“Who?””
He hesitated.
“A counselor.””
The answer surprised me.
I expected another accusation.
Another excuse.
Not this.
“You saw a counselor?””
He nodded.
“After the babies were born.””
“Why didn’t you tell me?””
He looked away.
“Because I didn’t want you to think something was wrong.””
I stared at him.
Something about that sentence felt familiar.
Because it sounded almost caring.
Almost like concern.
But then I remembered everything else.
“So you hid it from me?””
“I was trying to understand why I felt so angry all the time.””
The room went quiet.
Scott continued.
“I was overwhelmed.””
I nodded slowly.
“Okay.””
A tiny bit of my anger softened.
Because I knew becoming parents had been hard for both of us.
I knew he had struggled too.
But then he said:
“And the counselor said I might be grieving the life we had before.””
I looked at him.
“The life we had before?””
He nodded.
“Yes.””
I waited.
Because I wanted him to explain.
I wanted him to say something human.
Something honest.
Instead, he said:
“Before everything became about the babies.””
And there it was again.
The same wound.
The same belief.
I shook my head.
“Scott.””
He looked at me.
“You didn’t lose our old life.””
My voice cracked.
“You lost the version where you didn’t have to put anyone else first.””
His face hardened.
“That’s unfair.””
“No.””
I pointed toward the nursery.
“That’s reality.””
Brandon quietly left the room.
Giving us privacy.
But I almost wished he stayed.
Because being alone with Scott felt harder.
Scott stood.
“I know I messed up.””
I waited.
“I know tonight was wrong.””
Still waiting.
“But you have to understand that I felt invisible too.””
The words hurt because I understood them.
I really did.
I knew what it felt like to feel forgotten.
But the difference was, when I felt invisible, I didn’t make him feel smaller.
“I’m sorry you felt invisible,” I said.
He looked surprised.
“But you don’t get to make me disappear so you can feel seen.””
Scott looked down.
For a moment, I saw the man I married.
The one who held my hand.
The one who cried when we heard three heartbeats.
Then the moment passed.
He walked toward the kitchen.
“I need to show you something.””
I didn’t move.
“What?””
He opened a drawer.
He pulled out a folder.
My heart started racing.
“What is that?””
He placed it on the table.
“Something I’ve been working on.””
I opened it.
Inside were printed documents.
At first, I thought they were bills.
Then I saw the title.
A separation agreement.
I looked up.
“What is this?””
Scott’s face changed.
Not guilt.
Fear.
“I didn’t sign anything.””
“But you prepared it.””
He nodded.
“I thought about leaving.””
The room spun slightly.
“You thought about leaving me?””
“I thought about leaving because I didn’t know how to fix us.””
I looked down at the papers.
A year of marriage.
Three children.
Everything we built.
Reduced to pages in a folder.
Then I noticed something.
A date.
The agreement had been drafted months earlier.
Months before tonight.
Months before the joke.
I looked at him.
“Why didn’t you tell me?””
He didn’t answer.
And then I saw another document underneath.
Something that wasn’t part of the separation papers.
A letter.
My name was written on the front.
But the handwriting wasn’t Scott’s.
It was from the counselor.
I opened it carefully.
The first line made my hands go cold.
“If Scott refuses to tell you what happened the night your babies were born, you deserve to know the truth.””
I looked at my husband.
“What happened?””
Scott went completely still.
May you like
And for the first time that night…
he looked afraid of me finding out.
