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Kelvin Promised His Disabled Wife Forever—Then Her Best Friend Came to the Door / Chapter 2 / 6

Chapter 2 — Kelvin Promised His Disabled Wife Forever—Then Her Best Friend Came to the Door

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Kelvin looked toward his daughter, then back at Efoma.

“This has been difficult for me too.”

That sentence changed the room.

Efoma’s expression became completely still.

“For you?”

Kelvin heard himself and tried to correct it.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“No.

Explain it.”

He paced toward the window.

“I’ve spent more than a year working, paying hospital bills, driving to appointments, coming home to more problems.

I don’t know what you expect from me.”

Efoma gripped the armrests of her wheelchair.

“I expected my husband.”

Kelvin flinched.

Her friend whispered his name, warning him to stop.

But Kelvin had spent months turning his guilt into resentment, and now the words were coming too easily.

“You don’t understand what my life has become.”

Efoma looked down at her motionless legs.

Then she looked back at him.

“No, Kelvin.

I understand exactly what your life became.”

The shame on Janette’s face was almost unbearable.

Kelvin seemed to notice it too.

“Janette, go upstairs.”

She shook her head.

“You cheated on Mommy?”

Kelvin opened his mouth.

His daughter answered her own question.

“With her best friend?”

“Janette—”

“You promised Mommy.”

Kelvin raised his voice.

“Enough!”

Johanne appeared halfway down the stairs, frightened by the shouting.

Efoma immediately softened.

“Johanne, baby, go back to your room.”

The little girl looked at Kelvin, then at her mother.

“Are you fighting?”

“No,” Efoma said.

“Mommy is handling something.”

Janette went to her sister and led her upstairs.

The moment they disappeared, Efoma turned back to Kelvin.

“What happens now?”

Kelvin stared at the floor.

He had clearly imagined this moment many times, but perhaps never with his children watching.

Finally he said, “I think we should separate.”

Efoma’s friend covered her mouth.

Efoma did not cry.

She had cried enough in hospitals, therapy rooms, bathrooms, and in the darkness beside a husband who had slowly stopped touching her.

Now there was only clarity.

“You’re leaving.”

Kelvin nodded.

“I can’t keep living like this.”

Efoma looked toward the stairs where their daughters had vanished.

Then back at the man she had married.