I felt my eyes filled with tears.
But you laughed at me.
Mihai was lowering his eyes.
I know.
No. Last night you didn’t know. You thought I could be humiliated and that in the morning I would still be here, preparing your coffee.
For the first time, he had no answer.
That day I went to the lawyer.
I learned something important: ten years together they didn’t have to be turned into a simplistic story of “everything mine” or “everything is ours.”
There were contributions to document, goods and obligations to clarify, and any breakup had to be made legally and correctly.
That’s what I wanted.
Not revenge.
Clarity.
In the next few days we separated the current expenses and kept records of all payments.
And Mihai started, for the first time in ten years, to ask the questions he had avoided.
Why was marriage so important to me?
Why did he make me so hard to make him hurt so much?
And why did two suitcases near the table in the kitchen scare him more than any quarrel we had ever had?
The answer to the last question was simple.
For the first time, he understood that I could have left.
Three days later, he came to my living room.
I realized something.
What?
“I said I don’t want marriage because I don’t want to feel trapped.
I waited.
“But I acted for ten years as if you were the one who wasn’t allowed to leave.
I looked up at him.
Yes.
It wasn’t fair.
No.
He sat in front of me.
“If I asked you to get married, would you say yes?”
The question surprised me.
A few days before, I would probably have cried with happiness.
Now the answer was different.
No.
His face is changing.
