“I didn’t need you to think I was beautiful every minute.”
His eyes filled.
“I needed to feel safe being myself with you.”
He didn’t try to stop me.
Driving toward Laurel’s house, I caught my reflection in the rearview mirror at a red light.
The same face.
The same fine hairs above my lip.
For 20 years, I’d wanted Wade to look at me and see the woman he loved.
That morning, he’d made me wonder whether I was still beautiful enough for him.
By evening, I understood that beauty had never been the question.
The question was whether my husband could learn to treat me with the kindness I deserved.
And this time, I wasn’t going to answer it for him.
