At nine weeks postpartum, I filed for legal separation.
Not divorce yet.
Colin asked:
“Do you hate me?”
“No.”
That surprised him.
I continued.
“I don’t trust you.”
Worse.
He looked down.
“I thought I was protecting our marriage from your father.”
“You protected it from me.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
Then:
“I never stopped you from sleeping.”
I stared.
He corrected.
“I didn’t physically stop you.”
“Do you hear yourself?”
He closed his eyes.
Yes.
He had created conditions.
Canceled help.
Allowed Marcia to wake me.
Reinforced chores.
Refused paternity leave.
Slept separately.
Then told himself I could still choose rest.
Technically.
Like telling someone they are free to sit while assigning work that never ends.
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