PART 8
Roman’s father had raised two sons inside wars over money, loyalty, and reputation.
A fortress would have felt like peace.
Until it became a prison.
“And now?”
Roman looked at me.
“Now I think home is where people don’t need permission to leave.”
Something tightened in my chest.
He continued.
“I want Amelia to grow up knowing that.”
Silence settled.
Then I asked the question I had avoided for a year.
“Do you still love me?”
Roman’s eyes met mine.
“Yes.”
No hesitation.
“Do you expect me to come back?”
“No.”
“Would you wait forever?”
He thought.
“No.”
That surprised me.
Roman continued.
“I think waiting forever would just be another way of refusing to live honestly.”
I smiled faintly.
“Therapy.”
“Very expensive therapy.”
“Good.”
He smiled too.
Then his expression softened.
“I want you, Savannah.”
My heart tightened.
“But I don’t want the version of you who stayed because leaving felt impossible.”
I looked away.
“I don’t know who I am with you anymore.”
“Then don’t decide tonight.”
That sentence broke something open in me.
A year earlier, Roman had walked out because he believed his priorities were not negotiable.
Now he was sitting six feet away, refusing to turn my uncertainty into a problem he could solve.
Maybe that was love.
Not the certainty.
The room.
We did not reconcile that Christmas.
That would have been too easy.
Instead, we dated.
It was my idea.
Roman stared at me when I suggested it.
“Date?”
“Yes.”
“We’re married.”
“Technically.”
“So I should ask my wife on a date.”
“Yes.”
“That sounds humiliating.”
“You’ll survive.”
He smiled.
“Friday?”
“No.”
“Saturday?”
“I have plans.”
“With whom?”
I raised one eyebrow.
Roman immediately corrected himself.
“None of my business.”
“Progress.”
“Sunday?”
“Yes.”
He took me to a small Italian restaurant with eight tables.
No private room.
No security stationed inside.
No Claire.
No business calls.
He put his phone in the glove compartment before we walked in.
I noticed.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
“Because I want to remember everything you say tonight.”
I froze.
Roman realized it one second later.
“That was—”
“Our first date.”
“Yes.”
I smiled.
“Keep going.”
So he did.
We rebuilt slowly.
Not the marriage we had.
May you like
Something else.
Roman learned that I did not need him to make every decision.
