Later that evening, after Evelyn had gone to bed, Norton and I sat together on the couch, the weight of silence hanging heavily between us. I could feel his gaze on me, but I didn’t meet it. I wasn’t sure I was ready to talk again. Not yet.
But Norton broke the silence, his voice quiet but determined. “I know you’re still angry, Chanel. I know you’re still hurt. And I get it. I do. I just need you to know that I’m here. I’m here for you. For us.”
I didn’t respond right away, my fingers tracing the edge of the couch as I tried to steady my breathing. I was angry. I was hurt. But I wasn’t sure how to express it without tearing us apart. It was easier to just remain quiet, to let the words sit between us without saying them out loud.
“I’m not asking for your forgiveness yet,” Norton continued, his voice cracking with emotion. “I just need you to know that I’m committed to doing whatever it takes. I’ll do anything to make this right. For you. For Evelyn.”
The sincerity in his voice cut through the barrier I had built around myself. I didn’t want to let him in, not yet. Not after everything that had happened. But a part of me couldn’t help but believe him. A part of me still wanted to try.
“I don’t know if I can ever forgive you, Norton,” I said softly, my voice trembling. “I don’t know if I can ever forget the way you kept this from me. The way you kept her from me.”
Norton’s face fell, and I could see the pain in his eyes. “I understand,” he whispered. “I’m not asking you to forget. I just want you to know that I’m sorry. More than you can imagine.”
I exhaled slowly, trying to push down the knot that had formed in my chest. “It’s not just about forgiveness, Norton. It’s about trust. You took that away from me. And I don’t know how to get it back.”
We sat in silence for a long time, the weight of everything we had gone through sitting heavily in the room. But this time, I didn’t feel as hopeless. We were both broken, but perhaps that meant we could rebuild together, piece by piece.
