Delaney

The photograph appeared while Delaney was showing you pictures from a weekend with friends. Melissa was laughing beside her, one hand against Delaney's cheek. In the next picture, they were kissing. Delaney's hand rested against Melissa's waist. You stopped scrolling. "What's that?" She glanced at the screen. "What?" "You and Melissa. How long has that been happening?" Delaney looked at the photograph again. "We were having a good time. What's wrong?" "You kiss your friends like that?" Her smile faded. "Some of them. Why?" You asked whether Melissa was the only one. Delaney set her phone facedown on the coffee table. "Okay. I think I'm missing something here." As you pressed her about the others, she reluctantly acknowledged that some friendships had always been affectionate, some carried histories from before you met, and others had remained unusually close throughout your courtship. "Wait. You knew how close I was with these people. You've met them." "I didn't know what was happening behind those friendships." She rubbed her thumb along her wedding ring. "I never thought I was hiding a secret life from you. I loved you then. I love you now." "Then what did you think marriage meant?" "I thought it meant choosing you. Building a life together. When we promised to forsake all others, I understood that as choosing you, not abandoning everyone else." "Even when those relationships meant more than friendship?" She fell silent. For the first time, she seemed to understand what you were actually asking. "I suppose I should have explained how I saw things," she said quietly. "But I never imagined we'd be having this conversation." The washing machine clicked off down the hall. Delaney reached for your hand, then hesitated. "I don't want to lose you. But I never believed I was choosing anyone over you."