Because despite everything—despite the betrayal and the humiliation and the legal papers sitting in her bag upstairs—Dean had been the love of her life.
And she wasn't sure you got more than one of those.
Marcy must have caught something in her expression because her voice went gentler. "Hey. You know you don't have to think about any of this yet, right? Like, not for a long time."
"I know," Fiona said, but her voice came out smaller than she intended.
Emma reached over and squeezed her hand. "You're allowed to grieve him, you know. Even after what he did. You're allowed to miss the good parts."
Fiona's throat tightened. "The good parts felt so real."
"They were real," Marcy said softly. "At least for you. And that matters."
Fiona nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
Because that was the thing that made it all so much worse. She hadn't just lost her husband. She'd lost her future, her person, her other half. The man she'd planned to grow old with was gone, and in his place was a stranger who'd found her childish, thought she was ridiculous.
She wasn't ready to imagine loving anyone else.
She wasn't sure she'd ever be ready.
CHAPTER 28
Dean
Dean satin his home office, laptop open, staring at @shitfionasays.
Dean clicked on the first post.
Delete.
The second post vanished just as easily. Then the third. Dean worked methodically, two years of content disappearing with each click. The strawberry socks. The owl story.
Gone. All of it gone.
With each deleted post, Dean felt something loosen in his chest.
When the last post was deleted, Dean sat back and stared at the empty page.
@shitfionasays: 0 posts.
Dean opened a new post and started typing:
For the past two years, I ran this account without my wife's knowledge or consent. I shared her private thoughts, her vulnerable moments, and her personal stories forentertainment. I turned someone who trusted me completely into a joke for strangers.
What I did was cruel. It was a violation.
To everyone who followed this account, who liked these posts, who shared in mocking my wife's kindness and authenticity: we were wrong. All of us. Cruelty is not content. Vulnerability is not entertainment. And there is nothing funny about betraying someone's trust.
Fiona, I know my apology means nothing now. But I need you to know that I understand what I did. I understand that I took your beautiful heart and turned it into a performance for people who will never know how extraordinary you are. I understand that I made you feel small in a world that was already hard enough.
I am sorry.
Dean read it again. It wasn't eloquent. It wasn't strategic. It was just true.
He hit post.
Dean turned off his phone and closed the laptop.
