Trevor hated it.

“About last night,” he said.

Stephanie looked at him. “What about it?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “You didn’t have to embarrass me in front of Diana.”

The silence that followed should have warned him.

Stephanie slowly set her mug on the counter.

“That,” she said, “is what you woke up thinking about?”

Trevor immediately felt defensive. “I’m not saying—”

“You are.”

“No, I’m saying the way you handled it was unnecessary.”

Stephanie laughed softly. “Trevor, you brought home a woman you were emotionally investing in while our marriage was starving, and your main concern is that I didn’t protect your image.”

“Nothing happened.”

“You keep saying that like physical cheating is the only kind of betrayal.”

His mouth tightened. “So now I’m a cheater?”

“I didn’t call you anything.”

“You implied it.”

“I described it.”

He stepped closer. “You’ve been distant too.”

Stephanie’s expression changed. For the first time that morning, pain cracked through her calm.

“Yes,” she said. “I have.”

That surprised him.

She picked up her mug. “Do you know why?”

He said nothing.

“Because I got tired of begging my own husband to care.”

Trevor looked away.

Stephanie nodded slowly. “Exactly.”

He exhaled. “That’s not fair.”

“No, Trevor. What wasn’t fair was trying to talk to you for months and watching you act like every conversation was an attack. What wasn’t fair was lying next to you and feeling lonelier than I did when I lived alone. What wasn’t fair was me wondering what was wrong with me because you had stopped looking at me like I mattered.”

His face tightened. “Steph—”

“No. You don’t get to soften your voice now and make me feel guilty for saying it.”

He flinched.

She walked toward the dining table and picked up her purse.

Trevor followed. “I just… Diana listened to me.”

The second the words left his mouth, both of them froze.

There it was.

The truth.

Raw, ugly, simple.

Diana listened to me.

Stephanie stared at him.

Trevor tried to recover. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Yes,” she whispered. “It is.”

Her voice hurt more than anger.

“You could have talked to me,” she said.

“I tried.”

“No, you complained. There’s a difference. You complained about work, about bills, about being tired. You didn’t open up. You didn’t reach for me. You found someone outside our marriage and let her make you feel interesting again.”

Trevor had no answer.

Because she was right.

And worse, he knew she was right.

Stephanie moved toward the door.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“To work.”

“Can we talk tonight?”

She paused with her hand on the knob. “I don’t know.”

Panic moved through him. “You don’t know?”

Stephanie turned back.

“You stopped asking about my life a long time ago, Trevor,” she said quietly. “Don’t act shocked now that you don’t know what’s happening in it.”

Then she left.

The door clicked shut behind her.

Trevor stood in the hallway, staring at the empty space she had left.

For the first time, fear finally did what love should have done months earlier.

It made him pay attention.

Work was useless that day.

Emails sat unanswered. His calendar reminders chimed and disappeared. People asked questions in meetings, and Trevor responded with corporate sentences that sounded polished but meant nothing.

At lunch, he found Diana in the break room.

She stiffened when she saw him.

That embarrassed him.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hi.”

She focused too hard on stirring sugar into her coffee.

Trevor lowered his voice. “About last night.”

Diana gave a humorless laugh. “Yeah. About last night.”

“She overreacted.”

Diana looked up.

Not sharply. Worse. Sadly.

“Did she?”

Trevor frowned. “You know nothing happened.”

Diana held his gaze. “Do I?”

He felt heat rise in his face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you may not have slept with me, Trevor, but you were using me.”

He stepped back. “Using you?”

“For attention. For escape. For whatever you weren’t dealing with at home.”

“That’s unfair.”

Diana shook her head. “No. What was unfair was me sitting at your wife’s table eating food she cooked while you acted like she was the problem.”

Trevor stared at her.

Diana’s voice softened. “She looked devastated.”

“She embarrassed me.”

“She was humiliated first.”

He looked toward the window. Downtown Syracuse moved behind the glass, gray and cold and busy. He wished he could step out of this conversation. Out of his marriage. Out of himself.

Diana placed the lid on her coffee.

“I’m not judging you,” she said. “I’m telling you we need boundaries.”

His chest tightened. “Boundaries?”

“Yes.”

“Diana—”

“No.” She took one step back. “You’re married.”

Simple words.

Devastating words.

She continued, “And your wife deserves better than being made to feel crazy for noticing something real.”

Trevor’s throat tightened.

Diana looked embarrassed now, but firm. “I liked the attention too. I’m not pretending I was innocent. But last night showed me exactly where this was heading, and I don’t want to be part of breaking someone.”

She walked away, leaving Trevor alone beside the humming vending machine.

For the first time, both women had stopped making room for his excuses.

That evening, Trevor stopped at a flower shop.

He bought white roses mixed with pink carnations because Stephanie used to love them. Standing at the counter, he realized he wasn’t sure if she still did.

That thought bothered him.

He used to know everything.

Her favorite candle scent. Her coffee order. Her stress tells. The song she played when cleaning. The way she went silent when hurt because crying made her feel too exposed.

When had he stopped learning her?

He pulled into the driveway around 6:30. The house glowed warmly from inside, but he felt like a guest walking up to it.

Stephanie sat on the couch reading on her tablet, jazz playing softly nearby. She wore loose pants and a faded Howard University sweatshirt from her niece’s campus tour. Her face was bare except for lip balm. She looked tired and beautiful and not remotely impressed when he stepped in with flowers.

“I thought maybe we could talk,” Trevor said.

Stephanie looked at the bouquet, then back at her tablet. “You thought flowers were enough?”

He exhaled. “Can you not do that?”

“Do what?”

“Turn every sentence into a lesson.”

She locked the tablet screen and placed it beside her. “No, Trevor. You just don’t like uncomfortable truth when it isn’t wrapped gently.”

He set the flowers on the counter. “I’m trying.”

“Because you’re scared.”

That hit too cleanly.

He took off his coat. “Maybe I am.”