Michael picked up the document.
The blood drained from his face.
“What does that mean?”
I picked up my suitcase.
“It’s just a card paper“Michael.”
“You’re serious? Do you want to waste ten years through one conversation?”
“No. I’m leaving because one conversation opened my eyes to the truth about those ten years.”
He began to say that he loved me, that the wedding didn’t matter and that we were already family.
But for the first time, I understood what his words really mean.
“We are family” – when it suited him.
“That’s your problem” – when I needed protection.
I left the house.
Three days later, Michael proposed to me.