Chapter 9 - Flynn's Confession
Flynn came to my apartment one rainy evening.
He didn't bring flowers.
Good.
“I signed the donation agreement.”
He placed the papers on my table.
“Phoebe already told me.”
He nodded.
Then remained standing.
“What?”
“I need to tell you why I stepped over you.”
My stomach tightened.
“I don't want excuses.”
“It isn't one.”
I waited.
Flynn looked ashamed.
“When you fell, I panicked.”
“You picked up the deed.”
“I know.”
“I begged you.”
“I know.”
His voice cracked.
“My mother had spent months telling me you were preparing to divorce me and hide the estate.”
“That wasn't true.”
“I know.”
“She manipulated you.”
“Yes.”
“But you believed her because part of you wanted to.”
He nodded.
There was no defense left.
“I saw you on the floor,” he whispered. “And for one second, I thought if I helped you, I'd lose everything.”
I stared at him.
“So you chose the house.”
“Yes.”
“Over your wife.”
“Yes.”
Tears appeared in his eyes.
“I've replayed it every night.”
“That doesn't change it.”
“I know.”
He slid another document toward me.
Signed divorce papers.
No property demands.
No alimony claims.
No challenge to my remaining inheritance.
“I won't fight you.”
I looked at them.
“Why?”
“Because loving somebody doesn't mean you're entitled to keep them after you've destroyed their trust.”
That sounded like something my old Flynn might have said.
But the old Flynn was gone.
Maybe this new one would become better.
It just wouldn't happen beside me.
“Thank you,” I said.
He nodded.
Then he left.
And for the first time since our marriage ended, I cried.
May you like
Not because I wanted him back.
Because I could finally mourn the man I'd thought he was.
