Chapter 101 My marriage
Greyson
The house came into view, small and weathered and beautiful against the dunes, and I could see Cassie's silhouette on the stoep. She was sitting in the same chair where I'd left her, but her posture spoke of devastation held carefully in check. My heart clenched at the sight of her pain, pain I had caused, again, by my inability to stay present when things got difficult.
The wooden steps creaked under my weight, announcing my return. She looked up as I reached the stoep, and the expression on her face—guarded, hurt, but with something that might have been hope flickering in her eyes—nearly brought me to my knees.
"You came back," she said, her voice carefully neutral.
"Of course I came back," I replied, settling into the chair across from her instead of beside her, respecting the distance she clearly needed. "I'm sorry, Cass. I'm so fucking sorry."
The silence stretched between us like a chasm, filled with all the words I should have said seven years ago. Cassie sat across from me, her posture a fortress of crossed arms and averted eyes, her body language screaming caution.
"I love you," I said, the words falling into the space between us like stones into still water. "I need you to know that. Whatever else happens, whatever else I fuck up, that truth has never changed. Not seven years ago, not today, not ever."
She looked at me with those dark brown eyes that had haunted my dreams for nearly a decade, searching for something I desperately hoped she could find. There was wariness there, born of brutal experience, but underneath it, I glimpsed a fragile, tentative hope.
"Then why did you leave? Again?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
The question hit me, but this time I didn't flinch away. This time, I forced myself to sit with the discomfort until I found honesty on the other side.
"I’m a coward," I said, the admission scraping my throat raw. "Hearing you describe how completely I failed you brought back every moment of shame I've carried for seven years, and instead of sitting with that pain, instead of staying and talking it through with you, I ran. Just like I did before."
The wind picked up off the ocean, carrying the scent of salt and seaweed. It stirred the hair around Cassie's face. I leaned forward, my hands clasped tightly between my knees.
"I've been carrying this guilt, Cass. Every single day since we lost the baby, since I watched you disappear into grief while I hid behind work and silence and my own fucking inadequacy. I told myself I was protecting you, but I was protecting myself. I was too afraid of drowning in it with you to throw you a lifeline."
Tears tracked down her cheeks now, but she didn't look away.
"I needed you so badly, Grey," she said, her voice breaking on my name. "I felt like I was dying inside, piece by piece, day by day, and you just... weren't there. You were physically present sometimes, but emotionally, you'd already left."
"I know." The words came out broken. "God, Cassie, I know. And I hate myself for it. I hate that I let my mother convince me you'd be better off without my grief on top of your own. I hate that I was so fucking scared of feeling everything—the loss, the guilt, the helplessness—that I chose numbness over being present for the woman I loved more than life itself."
The confession hung between us like a bridge. I’d never said those words out loud before. It felt simultaneously like bleeding out and like finally being able to breathe.
Cassie was quiet for a long moment, her gaze fixed on the horizon. "I blamed you for so long," she said quietly. "I told myself that if you had really loved me, you would have fought harder to stay present."
I felt my heart clench, preparing for the blow.
"I understand now that grief isn't a competition," she continued, turning to look at me directly, and I saw forgiveness beginning to bloom in her expression. "I understand that you were doing the best you could. I also understand that thirty-seven is too soon to handle that kind of loss, especially when the adults in our lives were more concerned with their own agendas than with helping us heal."
The relief that flooded through me was intense. To hear her offer understanding instead of condemnation felt like being given permission to breathe again.
"I should have fought harder," I said. "I should have fought for you, for us. Instead, I let my mother's poison work its way into my head."
"Your mother," Cassie said, and there was a change in her tone. "Speaking of Georgia..."
My phone buzzed on the table between us. I saw my mother's name. Without hesitation, I declined the call and turned the phone face down.
"I'm not running this time," I said firmly. "Whatever games she's playing, I'm done. You're worth fighting for, Cass. We're worth fighting for."
Something shifted in her expression—a softening, a crack in the careful walls she'd built. But there was also something else there, something that looked like dread.
"She came to see me," Cassie said quietly. "She was waiting by my car when I was leaving after you flew away."
The blood in my veins turned to ice water. "What did she say?"
"She offered me money, Grey. A substantial amount." Cassie’s voice was steady. "Two million rand. All I had to do was walk away from you and never come back."
Fury rose in my chest. "That fucking bitch."
"She said I was a distraction you couldn't afford. That someone with my 'baggage' and 'emotional instability' would only drag you down."
"Tell me you didn't take it," I said.
"Of course I didn't take it." A ghost of a smile touched her lips. "Though I did consider taking her money and staying anyway, just to spite her. She doesn't know I'm old money."
Despite everything, I almost smiled. That was the fierce Cassie I remembered.
"There's something else, though," Cassie continued, growing more serious. "Something I need to tell you before... before this goes any further between us. Something your mother might have found out about, and if she has, I'd rather you hear it from me."
The wind gusted off the ocean, stronger now. The sky had darkened while we'd been talking.
"Tell me," I said, settling back in my chair. "Whatever it is, I want to hear it from you."
She nodded, gathering her courage. "It's about my marriage," she began, and with those four words, our tentative reconciliation shifted into something else entirely.