“Of course, I am. I have a full two chapters already written and dedicated to the effects my affair with Keith had on our already broken marriage.”
I snort, but the air doesn’t come out. It feels like the walls are closing in on me and I’m reliving the moments in my life that caused the deepest wounds. My chest heaves as I work to let out the breath trapped inside me. I wiggle the knotted tie from my neck, dragging in long, deep gulps of air.
“Marek,” Jasmine’s voice is a whisper of forgiveness. Or maybe that’s wishful thinking. “I know you hurt, too. And I do believe now that you tried to give me what you thought I needed. We both made mistakes that left us an unraveled mess. But it’s time I reveal the truth. I promise you, I will be honest and I won’t slander your name. Despite everything, you’re a good man, Marek, and you have a good heart.”
She pauses, glancing down at her lap before continuing. “This book isn’t meant to cause pain to you, but to help others with their pain of loss. We know what happens when you don’t deal with the loss of a child effectively. Writing this book has been cathartic and released me from the trauma of grief that losing our unborn child caused me. I hope it will do the same for you.”
Her words slice through my heart like a dagger. My body tightens at the unexpected shock of this conversation. The emotional upheaval that comes with suddenly speaking about our unborn son—whom we named Gabriel Marek Louis—after years of not talking to a soul about it. It was this miscarriage that pushed us both over the edge. Jasmine has apparently landed on her feet, while I still float on an endless cloud of regret.
Since the death of our son and our subsequent divorce, I’ve shut down all attempts to discuss what happened to cause the demise of our marriage. Her pregnancy was never revealed to the public. No one else knew about it because of previous attempts to become pregnant.
We’d been waiting to share the news until she passed the six-month mark. We never got there.
I’ve made sure that we kept all of those details hidden. It was easy and helped with burying my feelings and shielding myself from the pain and misery.
One thing became very clear to me after the end of my marriage, though.
There is no fucking way I will ever get married again. Nor will I have a child.
That ship has sailed. Once bitten, twice shy.
The buzzer has stopped the game on those life-altering decisions.
It’s the very reason I don’t want the press prying into my personal life. It may look from the outside that I’m a guy who has my shit together, but in reality, I’m a freshly oozing wound that won’t ever allow myself to be infected again by love or loss.