Alea closed the book and put it back in its place. She wiped her tears with her fingers and glanced again at the photo on the table. She felt touched that Zeno had brought it here—the same photo she’d left in their apartment years ago. Suddenly, Alea realized she didn’t really know who Zeno was, or understand his true nature. Her husband had been too closed off with his feelings, revealing only his selfishness all this time.
As a wife, when she thought back, she saw that the destruction of their household was partly her own fault—her unwillingness to depend on him and her inability to express how she truly felt. Zeno must have suspected she didn’t like him, thinking she could find someone better.
“Honey, I was wrong to keep assuming all this time,” Alea whispered. Knowing Zeno had kept h
