I looked at him.
The evening sunlight touched his face.
His dark hair moved slightly in the breeze.
The little crescent-shaped scar above his eyebrow was still there.
It would always be there.
For a long time, I had hated that scar.
It reminded me of the swing.
The rock.
The darkness.
The years I'd lost.
But now I was beginning to see something else.
The frightened eleven-year-old boy who'd made a cruel mistake.
The young man who'd carried guilt into adulthood.
The doctor who'd spent years trying to restore the vision he'd helped take away.
And the husband who had finally stopped hiding from the truth.
I took a breath.
"I don't think we can go back to the way things were."
Nigel nodded slowly.
"I know."
"But maybe that's not what we should want."
He looked up.
I continued.
"Our old marriage had secrets in it, Nigel. Even during the happiest moments, there were things I didn't know."
