Dr. Coleman continued to scribble in the notebook in her hand.

“Thank you, Charlie. That was a very powerful thing that you shared.” I could feel Ella’s eyes burrowing into the side of my face. “Ella, how do you feel about what Charlie has just shared?”

“How come in the 10 years we’ve been married, you've never said anything like that?” Ella’s words were that of defeat. I could hear it and see it as I turned my head slowly to her.

“You never asked,” I said plainly. “And even if you did, how far into the conversation would we get until you got pissed off?” Ella tensed, “What am I supposed to do when everything you say is a personal attack?”

“No, don't do that! You think every criticism is some ‘personal attack’ when it's just you being unable to admit when you're wrong!” My voice peaked.

I stood up to walk out. I’m not just going to sit and let her twist my words. I get enough of that at home. When Dr. Coleman realized what I was doing, she cleared her throat.

“Mrs. Andrews, I understand that you are frustrated, but walking out will only leave you with more bad than good,” I stopped in my tracks, “please sit, Charlie.” I looked to my right, and I could see Ella trying not to cry. My stomach sank at the thought of her tears falling. I sat back down.

Dr. Coleman sighed in relief and started her scribbling again.

“I want you to stay,” Ella started. ”Amelia is only 5, and I don't want her to think that fighting is what’s normal.”

“But don't you think staying together for her would be worse? We would just be hating each other in silence in front of her. She’s already asking why Mommy and Mama are sleeping in separate rooms.”

“Is that what you really want, Charlie?” Dr. Coleman looked at me. Her eyes were like a mirror, her words reflecting my thoughts. “Would separating be what’s best for you?”

I was on the spot once again. Dr. Coleman’s hand stilled, and she looked into my soul again.

Ella eyed me with bated breath, anxiety apparent on her creased brow.

“I– I don’t know…” I stammered, but the alarm on Dr. Coleman's desk went off, cutting me off like a lifeline. “I’m afraid our time is up for today,” Dr. Coleman said, her tone shifting.

“But before you go, I want to give you both some homework.” 

Her voice faded into the background as my mind drifted, pulling me back to memories of simpler times—when Ella and I sat in my father’s old Ford, faces fresh with youth, eyes full of love. We had been so sure of ourselves back then, so happy. A gentle tap on my shoulder snapped me back to the present. Ella was standing, looking at me with concern.

“Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah.”