Evan paused for a moment as he poured the milk. He didn't answer, quickly returning to normal as he placed a slice of bread into the toaster.
The house was dead silent. Getting no response from him, Melissa took another step closer. She looked at Evan, feeling wronged and unwilling to give up, her voice choked with emotion. "Answer me... Answer me..."
Silence was, perhaps, its own form of an answer.
But Melissa couldn't accept it, wouldn't accept it. She moved forward again, pressing him. "If it were Emma, would you still feel like it has nothing to do with you? Would you still not care?"
"No, I wouldn't."
This time, the reply was instant. He answered so quickly there was no time to brace for it.
The speed of Evan's response gave Melissa no buffer. She heard the answer with her own ears, and though she had anticipated it, hearing it spoken aloud still sent a wave of despair crashing over her.
"Why... why are you treating me like this..."
She stood there, looking utterly wronged, tears streaming down her face, though she seemed oblivious to them. Her eyes remained fixed on Evan.
Why?
The question seemed so simple.
Evan set down the glass in his hand and looked at her seriously. "Because she's not you."
She's my wife.
Evan didn't say the rest out loud, but his words had already wounded Melissa.
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