That night, Adrian and I went home, ordered soup from the deli, and sat in bed eating bread from paper bags.<\/p>\n
At two in the morning, I finally said, \u201cI\u2019m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFor what?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFor making our marriage smaller so my family couldn\u2019t touch it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt wasn\u2019t small,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou know what I mean.\u201d<\/p>\n
He took my hand.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t want you to tell people because you\u2019re ashamed of secrecy. I want you to tell people because you\u2019re proud of your life.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked around our apartment.<\/p>\n
The chipped bowl from Adrian\u2019s failed pottery class.<\/p>\n
The photo from Peru.<\/p>\n
The blanket he stole every night.<\/p>\n
It was not glamorous.<\/p>\n
It was ours.<\/p>\n
And I was proud.<\/p>\n
Then my phone buzzed.<\/p>\n
A message from Sophie.<\/p>\n
I found something you need to see.<\/strong><\/p>\n Another followed.<\/p>\n It\u2019s about the email I sent in January.<\/strong><\/p>\n Then a third.<\/p>\n It wasn\u2019t sent to your old account by mistake. Dad forwarded it there after I gave it to him with the wedding documents.<\/strong><\/p>\n I sat upright.<\/p>\n Adrian looked at me.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n I handed him the phone.<\/p>\n Sophie\u2019s fourth message appeared.<\/p>\n