I Love Him
“No, Remi. What’s not fair is watching you survive him, patch yourself back together—and then walk right back into the fire.” He ran a hand through his hair. “He erased you. From his life. From his family. Do you remember what that did to you?”
“I do,” I said quietly.
“He used you. Controlled you. Hide you. Slept with three women on your wedding day and still made you feel like you were the burden!”
My chest tightened.
“He humiliated you. Gaslit you. You weren’t even allowed to call yourself his wife! You lived like a secret while he played king.”
I turned away slightly, heat rushing to my face.
“And now, you’re what? Roommates with your abuser?”
“Stop it,” I snapped.
But Asher wasn’t done.
“You know what I think? I think you like it. The drama. The pain. The chaos. Because you had peace with me, Remi. You had safety. And you ran from it.”
I swallowed hard. “That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?” he shot back. “I’ve been there for you. Every time. Every late-night emergency, every breakdown, every threat. I was the one. Not him.”
I blinked fast. My throat burned.
“I could make you feel safe again,” he said, quieter now. “I want to. But you chose him. The man who ruined you.”
“That’s not fair either.”
He stepped closer. “Then help me understand, Remi. Help me understand how after everything he’s done—you still picked him.”
I stared at him. My heart pounded like a drum, and my hands wouldn’t stop shaking. I wanted to explain, to make him see it wasn’t about love, or want, or even hope. It was survival. It was strategy. It was war.
But he was too hurt to hear it.
And I was too tired to justify myself again.
“Enough,” I said.
His eyes flickered. “Remi—”
“I said enough.”
I didn’t want the tears that entered my eyes to flow. It shouldn’t. Not here. Not in front of him.
Not when I was trying to stand my ground.
I blinked fast, holding them back with every ounce of strength I had. My nails dug into my palm as I straightened my shoulders. “You think I don’t know what he did to me, Asher?”
His lips pressed into a tight line. He didn’t speak, but I saw it all in his face. The judgment. The heartbreak. The disbelief.
“I know,” I snapped. “You don’t have to remind me. I was the one living it. Not you.”
“You’re acting like it’s ancient history,” he said, voice low, hurt barely restrained. “Like it doesn’t still matter.”
“It does matter,” I said, stepping toward him, fists clenched at my sides. “But just like Lady Isolde said to me after Claire’s funeral—it’s in the past. And I’m tired of living there.”
“That ‘past’ almost destroyed you.”
“And what? You want me to carry it forever? Let it eat me alive? I’ve done that already.” My voice cracked. “I’ve cried over him. I’ve screamed at him. I’ve hated him so much it made me physically sick. But I can’t live in that hate anymore.”
Asher shook his head, stepping back like I’d slapped him.
“He doesn’t deserve your forgiveness.”
“This isn’t about deserve,” I hissed. “It’s about choice.”
“You’re choosing a man who forgot you,” he said, incredulous. “He flirted with you, slept with you, and didn’t even remember he married you, Remi. He treated you like a stranger and then had the audacity to want more.”
“I know what happened!” I shouted, the tears finally spilling. “I lived it, Asher! I felt every inch of that humiliation. I raised his children alone. I built a life while pretending I didn’t break every time I saw his face in a magazine with another woman. And then I lost my friend, then the other friend I have said he likes me and everything came crashing back. All of it.”
My chest rose and fell, and I was shaking now.
“I know he was cruel. I know he used to look at me like I was nothing. I remember the wedding day, Asher. I remember the three women. I remember walking down that aisle knowing I was just a piece on a chessboard, a name in a contract. I remember.”
Asher’s throat worked like he was trying to swallow the storm I just threw at him.
“And after the accident, after the amnesia… he became someone else,” I said, quieter now. “I hated him for forgetting me, but I also hated him for being so different. Because he smiled. He listened. He looked at me like I was someone he didn’t want to hurt. And I hated that even more.”
Asher didn’t move.
“I tried to stay angry. God, I tried,” I said. “But he showed up. For the kids. For me. He didn’t have to. He could’ve gone back to his glass tower and left us in the dust, but he didn’t. Even when he didn't remember, he came to me once again. And maybe I am delusional to feel that I might actually want him again.”
Asher finally spoke, his voice hollow. “You think that makes up for everything?”
“No,” I whispered. “But it makes me wonder if there’s a version of him that can make up for it.”
He turned his face away, jaw locked. His silence was louder than any insult.
“I’m not choosing him over you,” I said. “This isn’t a competition, Asher.”
He laughed bitterly. “It never was. I was never even in the running.”
“Stop saying that. It's not fair for you to say that!”
“Fair?” he repeated, eyes flicking back to mine. “You think this is about fairness? I held your hand in the hospital when the stress nearly collapsed your lungs. I picked up the kids when you couldn’t stand. I stood outside your door during your worst nights. I let you cry and scream and collapse. And I never asked you for anything.”
“I know.”
“Then why him?” he asked, voice breaking. “Why the one man who broke you into pieces I had to help glue back together?”
I stared at him, silent. The wind rustled through the trees above, but even nature felt like it was holding its breath.
I swallowed hard.
My voice, when it finally came, was small and raw. “Because I love him.”
Asher froze.
I blinked, tears slipping down my cheeks, unbothered now.
“I love him, okay?” I said, louder this time. “I love him.”
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