The email was brief, a few sentences that left more questions than answers. « I know you’re trying to figure things out, » it began. « I’m not ready to explain everything yet, but I promise it’s not what you think. Please trust me. »
I stared at the screen, the words blurring as I tried to make sense of them. What wasn’t I supposed to think? I had so many theories, each one wilder than the last.
But there was something in her words, a plea, an assurance. I wanted to believe her, to trust that what she said was true. But the doubt lingered, stubborn as ever.
The next morning, I decided to confront her again, this time with a calmer approach. Over breakfast, I slid the statement across the table, watching her expression carefully.
She sighed, setting down her coffee cup. « I know this is hard, » she admitted. « But I need you to trust me a little longer. »
I nodded, not entirely convinced but willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. « Okay, » I said, « but we need to talk about it soon. It’s affecting our finances, and that’s a discussion we have to have together. »
She agreed, and for now, that was enough. I would wait, but I wouldn’t stop looking for answers.
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