One woman shrugged.
“I think little white lies are normal.”
Her husband nodded.
“But big things should be shared.”
Amanda smiled tightly.
“Exactly.”
Then she turned to Daniel.
“What do you think?”
Daniel leaned back, relaxed.
“I think there’s a difference between dumping every negative thought on your spouse and working through things privately.”
My chest tightened.
Amanda nodded slowly.
“And what about doubts about the relationship itself?”
Daniel hesitated.
I felt every pair of eyes move toward us.
“I think,” he said carefully, “not every doubt needs to be spoken.”
Amanda inhaled deeply.
“What about you, Genesis?” she asked softly. “Do you think spouses should share doubts about their marriage?”
The room went still.
I could feel my heartbeat in my throat.
I chose my words with surgical precision.
“I think honesty hurts less than betrayal.”
Daniel shot me a sharp, questioning look.
Amanda’s voice steadied.
“Then I think it’s time we stop pretending.”
Daniel frowned.
“Amanda, what are you doing?”
She didn’t look at him.
She looked at me.
“I’m doing something I should have done weeks ago,” she said, “because I can’t keep being the only one who knows how unhappy your husband is.”
The table went silent.
Daniel’s face drained of color.
“Amanda, don’t.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “But I can’t keep lying for you.”
I felt dizzy, but I kept my voice quiet.
“Lying about what?”
Amanda swallowed.
“Daniel has been telling me for months that he thinks he married the wrong person.”
The words landed in the center of the table like a glass dropped on stone.
Someone inhaled sharply.
Daniel stood up abruptly.
“This is out of context.”
“Is it?” Amanda asked. “Because three weeks ago, you told me you were thinking about reaching out to Melissa.”
Melissa.
The name echoed inside my head even before anyone else understood what it meant.
Daniel looked around the table, panic flashing across his face.