Ben had rehearsed a million versions of this conversation, but that didn't mean he felt ready to have it. He had returned home mostly because he was tired: tired of being away, tired of imagining what she might say, tired of having this lingering unresolved over his head. He'd promised himself not to respond in haste or emotion to anything she said; that had only gotten them into trouble in the past. As a result, though, by the time Ben was ready to respond to what she'd said first, she had continued on to three or four other things he probably ought to address. He knew he wouldn't be able to speak to all of them without interruption. He had to consider carefully what he actually wanted to say, and let the rest go.

He let a moment pass and took a long breath.

"We owe each other something. I'm still trying to work out what," he said evenly. He paused to see if she would interject, and when she didn't he continued, "I didn't tell you because if the roles were reversed, I wouldn't have wanted to know."

Part of the disconnect here was that the roles could never have been reversed, of course. If Ben had coerced her into marrying him, he wouldn't want to know because he didn't know that he could live with that information — knowing that deep down, he was that kind of person. Clearly, Melody lived with that every day.

---