Chapter 11
Garrett asked me whether the marriage was truly over.
We were alone in my study.
No guards.
No mothers.
No captains.
Just us.
I looked at the wedding ring on the desk.
Recovered from the ballroom floor.
“Yes.”
His jaw tightened.
“Because I kicked Miriam.”
“Yes.”
“That’s all?”
I stared.
“No.”
He looked away.
Good.
“The kick ended something already rotting.”
That hurt him.
It hurt me too.
I continued.
“You lied using my name.”
“Yes.”
“You pressured my mother.”
“Yes.”
“You counted captains behind my back.”
“Yes.”
“You tried to access family succession systems without telling me.”
“Yes.”
“You let your mother feed you a fantasy because it made your resentment feel noble.”
His eyes closed.
“Yes.”
No defense left.
Then he looked at me.
“And you?”
Fair.
“What about me?”
“You never saw what living beside you did.”
My expression changed.
“Explain.”
He laughed softly.
“Every dinner, I was your husband.”
“Yes.”
“Every council, your husband.”
“Yes.”
“Every introduction, your husband.”
I understood.
“You wanted something that was yours.”
“Yes.”
“Did you tell me?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because it sounded weak.”
There it was.
Masculinity again.
Pride.
He wanted independent standing but could not admit he felt overshadowed by his wife.
So resentment became politics.
I leaned back.
“I would have helped you build something separate.”
He smiled sadly.
“I know that now.”
Too late.
Maybe.
Not for his life.
For us.
He looked at the ring.
“Do you still love me?”
I hated the question because the answer was not clean.
“Yes.”
His eyes lifted.
I continued.
“And you are not safe beside my mother.”
Silence.
“And I do not trust you with my authority.”
More silence.
Love did not erase those facts.
He nodded slowly.
“Then I leave.”
“Yes.”
He stood.
At the door, he stopped.
“I’m sorry.”
I believed he meant it.
May you like
Meaning it was not enough.
Not yet.
