Chapter 6: The Healing or The Ruin
The spare room door stayed closed for two nights. David left for work early, came home late, and spoke only in brief sentences.
The silence was worse than the arguments.
Ada moved through the apartment like a ghost, haunted by the emptiness between them. Each time she passed the closed door, she felt the weight of everything she had feared most: abandonment, rejection, loss.
On the third night, she couldn't bear it anymore. She stood outside the spare room, her hand trembling on the doorknob.
"David?" Her voice cracked.
No reply.
She pushed the door open. David sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor. His shoulders slumped, his tie loosened, his eyes shadowed with exhaustion.
"Can we talk?" Ada asked softly.
He looked up, and for a moment, she thought she saw something final in his gaze—like a man already halfway gone.
"Ada," he said quietly, "I don't know if I can keep living like this. I love you, but love isn't enough if you don't trust me. I feel like no matter what I do, it'll never be enough."
Her chest tightened, panic surging. This was the edge. This was the moment her mother had warned her about—when men leave, and women are left behind.
But this time, Ada refused to let silence be her answer.
She dropped to her knees in front of him, her hands clutching his. Tears streamed down her face.
"You're right," she whispered. "You've done nothing to deserve my suspicion. It's me. It's my father. It's the wound I've carried for so long, and I've let it poison us. But I don't want to lose you, David. Not because of my ghosts."
David's eyes searched hers, pain and tenderness warring in his expression.
"Do you mean that?" he asked.
"Yes," she sobbed. "I need help. I can't do this alone anymore. Therapy, counseling—whatever it takes. I want to fight for us. I want to fight for you."
For a long moment, David was silent. Then he exhaled, slowly, like a man setting down a heavy burden.
He pulled her into his arms.
"Then we'll fight together," he murmured. "But Ada… you have to let me in. Completely. Otherwise, we'll lose ourselves in this."
She clung to him, shaking. For the first time, she didn't feel like a child abandoned or a woman betrayed. She felt like a partner—flawed, frightened, but willing to begin again.
The path ahead would not be easy. There would be setbacks, arguments, days when the past threatened to rise again. But in that moment, Ada knew the truth her mother never taught her:
Trust wasn't the absence of fear. It was the decision to stand in love despite it.
And she was ready to try.