Chapter 8
We went home after the trial.
We didn’t celebrate. We didn’t throw a party. We just… went home.
Bao was at a friend’s birthday party. Linh was picking him up. We had the house to ourselves for an hour.
We sat on the couch. We didn’t say anything for a long time.
Then my husband turned to me.
“I know saying I’m sorry isn’t enough,” he said. “I know I can never take back what I did. What I almost did. But I need you to know… every single day for the rest of my life, I’m going to work to be the husband you deserve. The father Bao deserves. I’m going to spend every day proving to you that you can trust me again. If you’ll let me.”
He reached into his pocket. He pulled out a small, velvet box.
My heart stopped.
He opened it.
It wasn’t a new ring.
It was my old wedding ring. The one I’d taken off the day he came home with those fake papers, and thrown in the back of my jewelry box, like it was something dirty.
He’d cleaned it. Polished it. The little diamond in the center sparkled in the afternoon light.
“I’m not asking you to put it on today,” he said. “I’m not asking you to decide anything today. I just wanted you to know… I’m still yours. Whenever you’re ready. However long it takes. I’ll wait.”
He closed the box. He set it on the coffee table between us.
Then he leaned forward. He kissed my forehead. Soft. Gentle. Like he was scared I’d break.
“I love you,” he said. “I never stopped. Not even when I was being an idiot. Not even when I believed the lies. I’ve always loved you. And I always will.”
He stood up. He started walking toward the spare bedroom.
“Wait,” I said.
He stopped. He turned around.
I picked up the box. I opened it. I took out the ring.
I held it out to him.
“Put it on me,” I said.
His eyes got wide. “Are you sure? You don’t have to—”
“I’m sure,” I said. “We’ve got a lot of work to do. A lot of things to fix. But I don’t want to do it without you. I love you too. Even when you’re being an idiot. Even when you make the worst mistake in the world. I love you.”
He took the ring. His hands were shaking. He slid it onto my finger. It fit perfectly. Like it had never been off.
Then he pulled me into his arms. He held me so tight I could barely breathe. I held him back. I cried into his shirt. He cried into my hair. For all the lost time. For all the hurt. For all the fear.
And for the first time in two years, I felt whole again.
That night, when we put Bao to bed, he looked at both of us. He looked at my hand. He saw the ring.
“Does this mean you and Daddy are gonna sleep in the same bed again?” he asked, very serious.
My husband and I looked at each other. We laughed.
“Not yet, buddy,” my husband said. “But soon. Okay?”
Bao nodded. “Okay. But can you both read me a story tonight?”
So we did.
We sat on either side of his small bed. My husband read the first page. I read the second. We took turns all the way to the end.
When we turned off the light, Bao reached out and took both our hands. One in each of his.
“Now the monster can’t get me,” he said, sleepy. “’Cause I’ve got both of you.”
My throat tightened. I squeezed his hand.
“That’s right, baby,” I said. “You’ve got both of us. Forever.”
A month later, we started sleeping in the same bed again.
It was awkward at first. We’d been apart for so long. We’d both changed. But we took it slow. We talked. We listened. We learned each other all over again.
We went to couples therapy. Every other week. We talked about the trust we’d lost. About how to build it back. About how to never let anyone come between us again.
It wasn’t easy. There were bad days. Days when I’d look at him and remember those terrible words, and I’d have to walk away. Days when he’d get quiet, lost in guilt over what he’d almost done.
But there were more good days.
Days when we’d laugh until our sides hurt over something stupid Bao did. Days when we’d sit on the porch after he was asleep, drinking tea, talking about nothing and everything. Days when I’d wake up and feel his arm around me, and I’d know, without a single doubt, that we were going to be okay.
Three months after the trial, my husband came home from work with a big smile on his face.
He’d gotten a promotion. A big one. More money. Better hours. He’d be home every night by five. No more weekends. No more overtime.
May you like
And he’d been looking at houses.
“Come on,” he said. “Get your shoes. I want to show you something.”
