Chapter 5 - What She Took From the House
The following two weeks passed without another dramatic confrontation.
That almost made them harder.
Camille went to work, answered emails, and sat through meetings while colleagues discussed ordinary problems.
Nobody at her office knew that her marriage was falling apart.
At Lorraine's house, she slept in the room where she'd spent her teenage years.
Her old photographs still lined the dresser.
Some nights, she felt eighteen again.
Other nights, she felt considerably older than thirty-four.
She contacted a counselor and arranged an appointment.
Then she met with a family-law attorney to understand her options regarding the house, their shared finances, and a possible separation.
She didn't file anything immediately.
She wanted to make informed decisions rather than permanent ones in the middle of a crisis.
Andre called regularly.
At first, she ignored him.
Then she started accepting short conversations when necessary.
He told her he'd begun counseling.
He apologized for the deception.
He admitted that he'd been selfish.
Camille believed he was trying to understand what he had done.
She simply no longer believed that trying automatically entitled him to another chance.
One afternoon, Renee asked to meet.
They sat together at a quiet restaurant.
“I owe you an apology,” Renee said.
Camille looked surprised.
“You didn't cheat on me.”
“No. But at that dinner, when Andre was talking, I kept telling you to give him a chance.”
“You didn't know.”
“I didn't know the details. But I knew you were hurting, and I still made his comfort more important.”
Camille looked down at her glass.
Renee continued.
“I thought being a good sister meant helping him save his marriage.”
“And now?”
“Now I think it means refusing to help him hide from what he did.”
They sat silently for a moment.
Then Renee reached across the table.
“You're still family to me, Camille. Whatever happens.”
Camille squeezed her hand.
She hadn't realized how much she needed to hear that.
A few days later, Julian sent one final message.
He had ended his relationship with Andre.
He wasn't asking Camille to respond or offering advice.
He simply wanted her to know he would no longer participate in conversations designed to keep the two relationships entangled.
Camille wrote back.
Thank you for telling me the truth.
That was all.
There was no friendship suddenly born from their shared pain.
No triumphant alliance.
Just two people choosing not to remain inside the same deception.
By the end of the month, Camille knew what she needed to do.
She returned home on a Saturday morning with several empty boxes.
Andre had agreed to stay with Renee while she collected her belongings.
The house was quiet.
Camille folded her clothes carefully.
She packed the books from her side of the bedroom.
She removed her grandmother's quilt from the guest room closet.
Then she found their wedding album.
For several minutes, she stood holding it.
On the first page, Andre was laughing as he lifted her into his arms.
His eyes were closed.
Her head rested against his shoulder.
They had been happy.
That truth hurt.
Because the relationship hadn't been a lie from its first day.
There had been real affection, shared sacrifices, kindness, and joy.
But the existence of those memories couldn't undo what happened afterward.
She placed the album in a box.
The front door opened.
Andre stepped inside.
“I thought you wouldn't be here until this afternoon,” he said.
“I wanted to finish early.”
He noticed the boxes.
His face changed.
“Camille.”
She continued folding a sweater.
“I'm collecting what I need for now. We'll work out the rest properly.”
“Are you moving out?”
“For now, yes.”
“Are you filing for divorce?”
She stopped folding.
“I haven't filed anything. But I'm moving toward a separation.”
Andre leaned against the doorframe.
“Please don't do this.”
Camille turned to face him.
“Do you remember what you said at the dinner?”
He nodded.
“You said you were choosing me.”
“I meant it.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
She picked up her phone and opened the messages Julian had forwarded.
“Because that same week, you were telling him you loved him.”
Andre lowered his eyes.
Camille stepped closer.
“I need you to answer something, and I need you to stop trying to make the answer easier for me.”
He looked up.
“Okay.”
“If Julian hadn't walked through that doorway, would you have told me about him?”
Andre opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
Camille waited.
Outside, a car passed slowly along their street.
Somewhere in the kitchen, the refrigerator motor switched on.
Andre's hands began to shake.
“Please,” he whispered.
“No speeches. No promises.”
Her voice was almost gentle.
“Just tell me the truth.”
He looked at the wedding album resting in the open box.
May you like
Then he looked at his wife.
And finally, there was nowhere left to hide.
