The Honeymoon Confrontation
Vermont. Mountains, autumn leaves, and a new wife who deserved all of me. But I was haunted. Every sunset with Rachel became a comparison to one I once shared with Catherine.
On the third day, Rachel finally said what I feared. “Marcus… you’re not really here. Did you marry me because you love me—or because you were afraid of being alone?”
Her voice didn’t rise. But it cut like glass.
I broke. “I don’t know.”
Rachel’s silence stretched for what felt like eternity before she finally whispered: “Then when we go home, we’ll see a counselor. Because I won’t live as your consolation prize. And you deserve more than a marriage built on fear.”
