What He Doesn't Know (What He Doesn't Know Duet, #1)

by Kandi Steiner

Did anyone even see me at all, or was I as dead to them as I felt inside?

He didn’t want me.

Part of me was just crying at the way it felt to be held. I’d almost forgotten.

“Books aren’t meant to be in perfect shape,” she said when we reached her room. “They’re meant to be read, to be inhaled like oxygen.”

“This book has been breathed. It’s been loved.”

I couldn’t remember the last time we went on a date. I couldn’t remember the last time we’d done anything more than exist together, and for the first time in years, it didn’t just make me sad. It made me angry.

No one is the same once they lose someone they love.

I’m so hurt. He doesn’t appreciate me. I feel stupid.

He loved me so much, more than I loved him, I think.

“You don’t want to understand. You want to forget.”

But I couldn’t see him. I only saw a stranger, one I didn’t want to pretend with any longer.

Every muscle ached in the best way, in a way they hadn’t ached in so long I’d nearly forgotten what it felt like.

It was like I’d been swimming upstream for years and years, exhausting myself, and finally I’d let go and floated where the river wanted to take me. I didn’t feel guilty or sad or angry with myself. I felt relieved.

And I didn’t want to live an unhappy life any longer trying to make something work that wouldn’t.

“It’s hard to admit you’ve failed, especially at a marriage. But I have. And so has he. We have.”

I’m done. I’m done with the pain, with being ignored, with this sham of a relationship we call marriage.”

Admitting that we’d failed was the hardest part.

Why did it take losing me for you to care?”

“You waited too long,” I croaked. “And now, it’s too late. You don’t even love me, Cameron. You haven’t for years. You know you don’t love me anymore. Why can’t you let me go?” I choked on another sob, shaking my head as my vision blurred. “Please, please, just let me go.”