Primrose's fingers curled around the teacup as her heart stumbled over itself. His words were simple, too simple, yet they struck her like an arrow straight to the chest.
It wasn't fair.
She shouldn't be this easily moved. She should resent Edmund for everything he had done—or rather, everything he hadn't done—in their past life. He had neglected her, made her believe he despised her.
But how could she hate him when the truth was so different from what she had thought?
It wasn't fair. Not at all.
Because of his horrendous communication skills, their marriage had crumbled before it even had a chance to flourish, shattered into countless pieces.
But … she had never tried to talk to him either. She had simply assumed the worst and let the silence devour them both.
It was only now, looking at him, that she realized something that he wasn't the only one who had messed up.
She had chosen to believe all her negative thoughts rather than talking to him to clear things up.
