Chapter 4 - The Price of Keeping Appearances
Andre was waiting when Camille entered the house.
He had cleaned the dining room.
The dishes were put away, the table polished, and the chairs pushed neatly into place.
It looked as though Sunday night's humiliation had never happened.
Camille noticed that immediately.
“Where do you want to talk?” Andre asked.
“Here.”
He glanced toward the dining room.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
She put her keys on the table.
Andre remained standing.
“I never wanted to hurt you.”
Camille removed her coat.
“Then why did you?”
He rubbed his forehead.
“I don't know where to start.”
“Start with the truth.”
Andre sat down.
He looked older than he had three days earlier.
“I spent a long time being afraid of what my family would think about me,” he admitted. “I kept convincing myself that if I could figure everything out privately, nobody would have to get hurt.”
Camille listened without interrupting.
“I loved our life,” he continued. “I loved the house. Our routines. Having you there when I came home.”
“And Julian?”
Andre looked at the table.
“I had real feelings for him.”
Camille forced herself to remain still.
Hearing it stated plainly hurt more than she expected.
“Then why didn't you leave me?”
“Because I didn't want to lose you.”
“And why didn't you leave Julian?”
He didn't answer.
Camille understood.
He had wanted both relationships available while postponing the moment when someone else could make a decision.
Andre reached across the table.
“I know I handled everything terribly. But we can work through this. We've survived hard things before.”
Camille pulled her hand away.
“You keep talking as though this happened to us.”
Andre flinched.
“You did this, Andre. For eighteen months, you decided what I was allowed to know.”
He looked toward the doorway.
“I thought if everybody knew, they'd see me differently.”
“You had the right to tell people about yourself when you were ready. You did not have the right to lie to me about our marriage.”
Andre stared at her.
Camille continued.
“You could have told me you were confused. You could have told me you wanted something different. I would have been hurt, but at least I could have made my own decisions.”
He covered his mouth.
“I was afraid you'd leave.”
“And now?”
His eyes filled.
“Now I think you're going to.”
For the first time, Camille saw him without the confident speeches and carefully arranged apologies.
She saw a frightened man.
But recognizing his fear didn't erase the consequences of his choices.
“I need space,” she said.
Andre nodded quickly.
“Okay. A few days?”
“I don't know how long.”
“I can sleep in the guest room.”
“No. I need you to stay somewhere else while we decide what happens next.”
His expression changed.
“This is my house too.”
“I know.”
“I pay bills here.”
“So do I.”
“Camille, you're asking me to leave my own home.”
“I'm asking you to give me room to think without having to look at you every morning.”
Andre pushed back his chair.
“After everything we've been through together, you're going to throw away seven years?”
Camille stared at him.
There it was.
The familiar suggestion that protecting his comfort was somehow her responsibility.
“You're asking me to carry the weight of what you did because walking away might inconvenience you.”
“That's not fair.”
“Neither was lying to me for eighteen months.”
Andre stood and paced toward the kitchen.
When he returned, his voice had softened.
“Please don't tell everybody about Julian. My family doesn't need all the details.”
Camille looked at him carefully.
“I'm not putting your private life on display. But I'm not pretending everything is fine just to protect your reputation.”
He lowered his eyes.
“I understand.”
She wasn't sure he did.
That evening, Camille packed enough clothes for another week at Lorraine's house.
Andre stayed in the living room while she worked.
For years, she had known exactly where everything belonged in their bedroom.
Now even opening a familiar drawer felt strange.
Before leaving, she paused beside the front door.
The porch light was on.
She had switched it on automatically when the afternoon grew dark.
Andre followed her into the hallway.
“Camille?”
She turned.
“If I give you space, will you promise we can try again?”
She looked at the man she had once trusted without hesitation.
“I can't promise you that.”
His face crumpled.
“Then what am I supposed to do?”
“Figure out who you're willing to be when nobody is making excuses for you.”
She opened the door.
May you like
As she walked to her car, Andre remained in the doorway beneath the porch light.
For the first time, he was the one watching someone leave without knowing when they would return.
