Dean pressed his palms against his eyes.
And for what?
The approval of people who thought cruelty was clever.
He'd traded his wife's dignity for internet points, for slaps on the back at the office.
He was supposed to be her husband. But he’d failed her.
A husband protected. A husband respected. A husband loved.
Dean stood at the stove,stirring pasta sauce with one hand while his thumb flew across his phone screen with the other.
He'd been at this for hours, scrolling through every comment on every post, hunting down every piece of shit who'd said something cruel about Fiona. Years of accumulated venom that he was finally—finally—pushing back against.
@bro_marketing_genius:"she sounds like she has the brain capacity of a houseplant lmao"
Dean's fingers moved fast: "She has a master's degree in education and transforms kids' lives every day. Shut the fuck up."
The pasta water boiled over. Dean turned down the heat and kept typing.
@aesthetically_twisted:"this woman is literally too dumb to function how does she have a job"
"She's smarter than we’ll ever be. She builds confidence in children, creates safe spaces for learning, and has more emotional intelligence in her pinky than you have in your entire body. Delete your account."
His heart was pounding, but not from fear this time. From pure, righteous fury.
@citylife_commentator:"small town energy is code for 'never learned how the real world works' lol"
"Small town energy is code for 'actually gives a shit about other people.' Something we clearly never learned. What have we contributed to the world besides garbage takes on the internet?”
Dean drained the pasta more aggressively than necessary.
@ironic_lifestyle_blogger:"I'm sorry but if you cry because an owl 'winked' at you maybe you shouldn't be allowed in public"
“My wife processes the world with her whole heart while we process it with the emotional depth of a fucking parking meter. She's everything right with humanity and we’re everything wrong with it."
Dean stabbed his fork into the pasta bowl, taking a vicious bite while scrolling to the next comment.
His phone buzzed constantly now—notifications piling up as people responded to his defensive tirade. Some doubling down, others backing off, very few actually apologizing.
He didn't give a shit about any of it except making sure every single person who'd mocked her knew exactly how wrong they were.
@sophisticated_takes:"this level of naive is actually concerning like does she need supervision"
Dean's grip tightened on his phone. "She needs supervision? She manages a classroom of 25 kids, develops individualized learning plans, handles parent conferences, and somehow still has energy left over to leave encouraging notes for stressed husbands and pack thoughtful lunches and remember everyone's birthdays. She's the most competent person I know. You couldn't handle one day of her life."
Dean couldn't stop. Each comment was another chance to defend her, to say all the things he should have been saying for two years instead of laughing along.
@content_creator_elite:"lol imagine being this wholesome it's like she's performing childhood"
"Imagine being so dead inside that you think kindness is performance. She's not performing anything—she's just a decent human being who didn't let the world make her cruel. That's not childish, it's fucking heroic."
It was too late. Way too late. But Fiona was worth defending.
Even if she'd never see it. Even if she'd never forgive him.
CHAPTER 25
