I stopped reading.
Tears blurred the page.
Not forgiving tears.
Not yet.
Just recognition.
I had spent seven months imagining Logan walking away without feeling anything.
The possibility that he had felt too much didn’t erase his choice.
But it changed the shape of it.
I continued.
I went to my father because I wanted to understand whether leaving was something men in my family simply did.
He told me something I never expected.
He said he didn’t leave me.
He failed me in other ways, but he never stopped trying to come back.
For years I remembered only the days he wasn’t there. I forgot the letters. The birthday calls. The times I refused to answer the door.
We were both responsible for losing each other.
You are not responsible for what happened between us.
Our baby is not responsible.
That is why I am not asking you to forgive me.
