Member-only story
Glass House
Repairing What Broke
Elaine's fingers traced the rim of her coffee mug, round and round. Tuesday morning, their third session. The therapist's office smelled like sandalwood and furniture polish.
"When did you first suspect?" Dr. Winters asked.
"I didn't," Elaine said. "That's the thing about trust. It's a blindfold."
Neal shifted beside her. The leather creaked.
"I wasn't looking for signs," she continued. "I was buying anniversary cards. Planning a weekend away. I was—" Her voice caught. "I was stupid."
"You weren't stupid," Neal said softly. "You were trusting."
Dr. Winters watched them. "Neal, last week you mentioned feeling relieved when Elaine found out. Can you tell me more?"
The question hung there. Through the window, a delivery truck backed up, beeping steadily.
Neal rubbed his jaw. "The lying was exhausting. Every text, every late meeting. I was living two lives, doing a shit job at both."
Elaine made a sound—not quite a laugh, not a sob.
"I'm not excusing it," Neal added. "Just explaining that by the end, I wanted to get caught. I left her message open. Part of me wanted you to see it."
