Last night, we got close. He wouldn't let me watch tv, and said he wanted to talk. After yesterday, I really didn't think we had much to talk about except for how we were going to go our separate ways with our three girls, but I tried to get across how I felt. Eventually, in frustration, I told him he had taken away my safe place - my home. He stopped shouting. He put his head in his hands, and started sobbing, asking me to forgive him. He said that he understood now, that he got it.
We held one another for a long time. He was inconsolable.
We went to bed and made love.
Things, for now, are good.
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