“Are you sure about this? Because you’re not a redemption arc, T. You’re not some plot point in his life that he needs to fix.”
“I know, Jess. But maybe I’m allowed to hope. I feel something for him. I can’t explain it, but it’s there, you know? I just want to see where it goes. If I see any of that ugly behavior rear its head… I’ll walk away. I promise.”
A year and a half later, he proposed—quietly, in a parked car, rain tapping against the windshield, his fingers intertwined with mine.
“I know I don’t deserve you, Tara. But I want to earn whatever parts of you you’re willing to give.”
I said yes—not because I forgot, but because I believed people could change.
And now, here we were.
I turned off the bathroom light and stepped into the bedroom, my dress still half-unzipped, cool air brushing my back. Ryan sat on the edge of the bed, sleeves rolled up, collar undone.
He looked like he was struggling to breathe.
“Ryan? Are you okay, honey?”
He didn’t answer right away. When he finally looked up, his expression held something unfamiliar—not nerves or tenderness, but a strange relief, like he’d been waiting for the moment after the wedding.
“I need to tell you something, Tara.”
“Okay. What’s going on?”
He rubbed his hands together.
“Do you remember the rumor? The one in senior year that made you stop eating in the cafeteria?”
My body went rigid.
“Of course. You think I could ever forget something like that?”
“Tara, I saw what happened. The day it started. I saw him corner you, behind the gym, near the track field. I saw the way you looked at your… boyfriend when you walked away.”
My chest tightened.
“You knew?! You knew what happened and you didn’t say anything?”
“I didn’t know what to do,” he rushed. “I was 17, Tara. I froze. I thought… if I ignored it, maybe it would go away. I figured that you had it handled, you did date the guy after all. If anyone knew how manipulative he was… it would have been you.”
“But it didn’t. It followed me. It defined me.”
“I know.”
“You helped craft an image of me, Ryan. You just twisted it to give them a nickname for me. Whispers? What the hell was that?”
His voice broke.
“I didn’t mean to. They started joking, and I panicked. I didn’t want to be next. So I laughed. And I joined in. I called you that name because I thought it would deflect attention from what I saw. I thought that it would take over and he wouldn’t say anything or give you… another name.”
“That wasn’t deflection. That was betrayal, Ryan.”
Silence filled the room, broken only by the soft hum of the lamp.
“I hate who I was,” he said.
I searched his face, wondering if he had truly changed—or if he’d simply grown older.
“Then why didn’t you tell me all of this before now? Why wait for this moment?”
“Because I thought… if I could prove I’d changed, if I could love you better than I hurt you… maybe that would be enough.”
“You kept this secret for 15 years.”
“There’s more,” he continued. “And I know I’m probably ruining everything right now, but I’d rather ruin it with the truth than keep living a lie.”
“I’ve been writing a memoir, Tara.”
My stomach dropped.
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