“I was in Moscow those two weeks. But if I had known, I would’ve stopped it. Your marriage.” He looked around the cemetery, at the tent where my husband’s casket lay. “All of this.” My lungs felt tight. “It wasn’t your responsibility to save me.” His gaze was steady. “Nonetheless, I would have.” “Savior complex?” I joked to lighten the mood. “No.” It was a harsh word. My throat burned, making my voice bitter. “Why are you telling me this?” Why are you making me feel this way? “You hate me for that night.”
