Justin sat frozen in the hospital waiting room long after Lila walked away. The fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly, but everything else felt distant. His breath slowed, not with peace, but with resignation. The sting of rejection wasn’t what hurt most—it was the truth that came with it.
For the first time, he saw his cowardice for what it was. Not youthful confusion. Not fear. Just selfishness, plain and sharp. He hadn’t left because he couldn’t stay—he left because it was easier. Easier to vanish than to become someone worthy of staying.
He had told himself for decades that Lucy had been unreasonable. That she’d wanted too much, too fast. But now he saw it clearly—she hadn’t asked him to be perfect. Just present. And instead of stepping up, he had packed a bag and fled the fire she stayed in to fight.
He saw her not as a villain, but a warrior. Not as the cause of his misery, but the reason his children had joy in their lives. She had done it—without money, without a partner, without rest. He had called it madness. In reality, it had been love. Real, staggering love.