“Mom,” Marcus whispered. “Why would you do that?”
Diane closed her eyes.
The silence stretched, thick and awful, until it seemed she might simply outlast it.
“She looks like her,” she said finally. “Your father’s first wife. The one he never stopped loving. Every time I saw Elena’s face, I saw the woman I spent my whole marriage trying to be enough for.”
I stared at her, stunned.
“You destroyed my marriage because of a resemblance?”
“I was sparing him,” Diane said, reaching for Marcus. “He would have lived what I lived. I couldn’t watch that happen.”
Marcus pulled his hand away.
“Please leave, Mom.”
She hesitated, then rose slowly and walked out alone. The door chimed and closed behind her.
Ruth lingered a moment longer.
She met my eyes and gave me a small, steady nod, then turned to Marcus.
“The recordings are backed up,” she said quietly. “In case you need them again.”
Then she gathered her coat and left, the chime sounding once more.
Marcus turned to me, his eyes wet.
“Elena. I don’t know how to ask you to forgive me.”
I took a breath that felt like it had been trapped in my chest for weeks.
“I’m pregnant, Marcus.”
He broke then. Silent, shaking, his forehead pressed against his palms.
“Please,” he said. “Let me try. Let me spend the rest of my life making this right.”
He slid my wedding ring across the table between the sugar packets and the untouched coffee.
