WARNING: LANGUAGE.
A Picture Is Worth More Than a Thousand Words
“Jane, please, just do this for Mummy,” said Hermione. She was exhausted. Feverish, seven-month-old Jane would not stop crying. Hermione had been trying to give her a potion to bring the fever down but Jane wouldn’t swallow it.
This week, things had been tense around Michael and Hermione. They had had a couple of rows due to Michael’s recent change in his work schedule, and the fact that he had left Hermione to deal with a sick baby by herself. He had been working on a deal with Gringotts and working with goblins had been poisoning his attitude, making him very difficult to live with.
Hermione put the crying Jane down on her bed. She walked over to the fireplace, grabbed a handful of Floo powder and shouted “100 Penny Lane!” Shortly, she was looking into Ginny’s sitting room.
“Ginny?” Hermione called out desperately. “Where are you? I need help!”
Soon, the rush of footsteps was heard coming down the stairs.
“Hermione? Where are you?” asked Ginny, looking around.
“Over here! The fireplace!”
“Merlin! Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
“It’s Jane. Can you come over? Are you alone with the triplets?”
“Uh... I’ll... I’ll tell Mum to take care of them. She’s upstairs. I’ll be right over.”
Hermione sighed in relief and stood up. When she turned to face the bed, she saw how Jane had turned over and had crawled to the edge of the bed. She was a hairsbreadth away from falling to the floor.
“Jane!” she screamed, rushing to pick her up. Jane was startled and started crying once more. “I’m sorry... I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” Hermione started crying as well.
“Hermione?” Ginny’s voice called from downstairs. Hermione heard her run up the stairs. She quickly appeared at the door. “I’m here! What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”
“I don’t know what to do with her!”
Ginny walked to her side and took Jane from Hermione.
“She has a fever””
“I know!” said Hermione, bordering on hysteria.
Jane cried harder.
“Shh...” said Ginny soothingly. “Calm down sweetheart. Shh... Everything will be fine... I know it hurts, darling.”
As Ginny tried to calm Jane, Hermione sat on the bed, crying.
“Hermione, calm down,” Ginny told her. “Jane’s going to be fine. She’s just tired, and achy, and uncomfortable. Why don’t we give her a bath?” She went into the bathroom and ran a bath for the baby. “Hermione, get me some towels!”
When Hermione went into the bathroom, she found Ginny looking closely at Jane’s back.
“What’s wrong?” asked Hermione.
“Jane has dragon pox,” replied Ginny, getting Jane out of her little tub. “We need to get her to St. Mungo’s.”
“She’ll be as good as new in a couple of days,” the healer told Hermione.
“Are you sure? Is she really going to be alright?”
The healer laughed gently.
“Trust me, Mrs. Sandford. You’re lucky you read the signs quickly and correctly.”
“Thanks,” replied Hermione. She turned and sat next to Jane’s little cot. She was sleeping.
“What did he say?” asked Ginny, coming into Jane’s room with two cups of tea.
“He told me she’d be fine in a few days’ time,” said Hermione, taking one of the cups. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
“That’s what I’m here for,” said Ginny, squeezing Hermione’s shoulder.
They had seen Jane as soon as she came into the hospital, since a case of infant dragon pox is treated as a priority over other less dangerous illnesses. Hermione called Michael to let him know what had happened once they had seen the healer and once she had talked to Ben. They were waiting for him.
“Has Michael called back?”
“Not yet. He’s probably on his way.”
Suddenly, someone passed the room in a blur.
“I think that was him,” said Ginny.
“Michael?” Hermione called out.
His head popped into the doorframe.
“I knew it,” said Ginny, taking a sip of her tea.
“Is she okay? Is she alright?” he asked frantically.
“Healer said she would be fine is a couple of days,” said Hermione softly. Michael was as white as a sheet of paper.
He walked over to his daughter’s side and stared at her for a minute. Tears welled up in his eyes as he kissed her little hand. Hermione stood behind him, running her hand up and down his back, wanting to make him feel better.
Michael was devoted to Jane. He was smitten with her. He always called her his princess. His little girl.
“I’m going home,” said Ginny awkwardly. “You guys are all set here. If you need anything, let me know.” She hugged Hermione, and nodded to Michael. He stepped toward her and, to her infinite surprise, hugged her.
“Thank you, Ginny,” he said sincerely.
“You know there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for Jane. She’s practically my niece.” Ginny leaned into the cot and planted a soft kiss on Jane’s forehead. “I’ll see you later.”
After Ginny walked out, Hermione sat on the chair next to the cot.
“Are you alright?” Michael asked her.
“I’m so embarrassed,” she said, looking up at him in complete mortification. “I shouldn’t have panicked the way I did. Merlin, I completely lost it...”
“Don’t start blaming yourself,” said Michael. “I would have lost it too. I wouldn’t have known what to do.”
“But Michael,” Hermione insisted, “this should have never happened. I’ve been reading parenting books for months””
“You know books don’t have the answer to everything, don’t you?”
“The point of reading the books is learning so you don’t panic when””
“Hermione,” Michael interrupted. “Your reaction was perfectly natural. You were scared. Any parent would have been.”
“Hey,” said Ben, appearing at the door. “You’re here.”
“Just got here,” said Michael, receiving a pat in the back from one of his best friends.
“I talked to her healer,” Ben told the anxious parents. “You’ll be able to take her home tomorrow afternoon. They want her to spend the night.”
“Alright,” said Hermione. “Thanks so much, Ben.”
“It’s no problem at all.”
“Are you off duty now?” asked Michael.
“Yeah. I’m heading home,” replied Ben. “Are we still listening to the game at my flat this weekend?”
“Sure,” replied Michael.
“Alright. Tell Liam that if he wants Firewhiskey, it’s on him this time. See you tomorrow, Hermione.”
“Bye.”
Hermione and Michael stayed quiet for a few minutes.
“Going to blow some steam off this weekend, I see?” said Hermione.
“Don’t...”
“No, I’m only saying how surprising it is that you can’t seem to help with Jane at all since you have been working so hard on that thing with the Goblins, but you already have plans with Liam and Ben for the weekend...”
“I need to take a break from work, Hermione! When are you going to understand that every morning I leave to go to work, not to go and play Quidditch?”
“If you need a break, why don’t you take it with us, then?”
“I just... I already planned this out with Liam and Ben. Can I just get a little time with my best friends? You know how much I love you. You know how much I adore you both.”
“I... I understand what you’re saying, Michael. I just wish you were home more often. That’s all. Do you... happen to have anything planned for next weekend?”
“I’m all yours. I believe we have a special date coming up?”
“Do we?” Hermione grinned, in spite of herself. “I can’t remember.”
“It’s unbelievable how quickly a year goes by.”
“I know...”
“Do you have something in mind? Anything you want to do? Beth told me she could take Jane for the weekend””
“I thought we could spend our anniversary together. The three of us.”
“Sounds perfect.”
“Hello there.”
“Not now, Patricia. I’m already late.”
“Don’t be difficult, Michael,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck. He quickly pushed them off.
They were standing outside the Sandford Corporation building. It was early in the morning, and Michael was meeting with some investors. Patricia happened to be walking into the building as Michael walked to the entrance.
“I’m going to my chateau in Provence next week. Interested in joining me?” she asked, laughing. Now she was clinging to his jacket. “Another one of your fabulous business meetings in Paris would be the perfect””
“Stop it, alright!” Michael snapped. “Back off, for God’s sake!”
Patricia looked at him with fear and surprise. She quickly recovered.
“Back off? What? She gives birth and suddenly everything changes? You must be joking!”
“It’s over! We are done, Patricia! Fuck... Why can’t you understand? My wife and my daughter mean more to me than you ever will. And I’m not going to hurt my marriage anymore. She doesn’t deserve this.”
“Fuck off,” she hissed, and stormed into the building.
This was all playing in Patricia Walters’ head as she stood looking out the window in her office.
Even though the affair had blown over months ago, she still couldn’t get over the fact that Michael Sandford had rejected her. He had literally pushed her away. And no one ever said “no” to Patricia Walters.
“Ms. Walters?” A voice interrupted her thoughts. Patricia turned and found Rebecca, her secretary, standing at the door.
“What?”
“Megan Wickham is here to see you.”
“Well, what are you waiting for? Send her in!”
“Of course.”
Patricia sat on her elegant leather chair and pulled her wand out of her handbag. She pointed it at her face and with a swish and a flick, her makeup looked as perfect as ever. She put the wand away immediately.
“Well, Patricia,” said a tall, thin brunette appearing on the door. “I’m surprised you didn’t call me earlier.”
“Timing is everything, Meg,” Patricia replied, getting up to kiss Megan. “Have a seat. Did you bring them?”
“Of course I did, darling. You know better than anyone how much I can profit from this.”
“Let me see.”
Megan passed the brown folder she was holding to Patricia. She took five photographs out.
“This is brilliant.”
“Not as brilliant as you,” said Megan. “To be honest, when you asked me to send that photographer to trail you, I thought you had gone mad.”
“No,” Patricia laughed. “I just had the bigger picture in mind.”
“Are you really sending her these?”
“Of course I am. He wants to be with her, doesn’t he? Well, let us see if she wants the same thing when she has proof of what he has been up to. All those articles you published for me weren’t enough for her, right?”
“Why are you doing this now? He dumped you months ago.”
Patricia’s nostrils flared.
“In case you haven’t noticed, Meg, I wanted to keep these as an anniversary present. It’ll make their first a very special one.”
“She is so thick,” Megan remarked. “I can’t believe that they’re still together. He really must love her.”
“He does not,” said Patricia angrily.
“Not to burst your bubble, dear, but remember when you gave me all the details of the honeymoon? I had my people following those two all around Europe, and they all told me how he dotes on her. Even after we provided ‘evidence,’” Megan said, making little quotation marks with her fingers, “that she was having an affair with Viktor Krum, Michael stood by. Never gave us any credibility.”
“Well, she’s never shown any tendency to look for affection outside her marriage, has she?”
Michael slammed the door as he went out of the house. Hermione flinched.
“Bastard,” she muttered under her breath.
A new day, another morning in the Sandford residence that had started up with an angry exchange of words between Hermione and Michael. He, as always, had woken up with a mood that made him resemble someone that had Acromantula venom running through his veins, and this seemed to rub off on Hermione.
“Cleaning. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll tidy the attic.”
Jane was still sleeping, so she decided to make the most of her morning. She grabbed her wand and headed upstairs.
“Merlin...” Hermione muttered when she opened the door.
A light sheet of dust covered everything. There was an old desk in one corner, with a couple of big boxes on top of it. Most of the boxes around were Hermione’s, but Michael had a few of his old Hogwarts things there as well. Hermione decided to begin by getting rid of all the dust. She scourgified everything around her until she was satisfied, then she opened the small windows to get some air in. It was cold out, and as she glanced at the grey sky, she realized it would snow soon.
Next to the old desk, there were a couple of empty bookshelves. She looked around and saw about five large boxes labelled as “books.” Four were hers; one was Michael’s. She grabbed Michael’s box and dragged it over next to the bookshelves. She opened it, dusted the books, and started placing them on the bookshelves.
Around noon, Hermione took a break from organizing the attic and headed downstairs to feed Jane. She then fixed herself a quick lunch and turned on the wireless for a while. Before she knew it, she was dozing off on the couch.
An hour later, when she realized she had fallen asleep, she went upstairs to check on Jane. The baby was still sleeping; the potions she had been taking had made her drowsy. Hermione took the chance to go up to the attic and finish to shelve the books; she only had one box left and then the only thing she had to do would be to organize the other boxes so there could be much more space.
As she started to levitate the last box across the room, Hermione realized that it was much lighter than the other ones, so she decided to pick it up instead. As soon as she did, though, the bottom of the box opened up, and everything in it fell on the floor.
The box was not filled with books.
Hermione sat on the floor. In front of her lay an old lamp, the one that used to be on top of her father’s desk; the beautiful porcelain doll her dad had given her for her fourth birthday; some linen tablecloths that used to belong to her grandmother... There were a few photo frames; some had still photographs, others were moving. Her parents were smiling up at her.
She couldn’t believe these pictures had been stored for such a long time, especially when she had been looking for them since she moved.
The last item that fell to the floor was a book. It was one of the things she kept that belonged to her mother. The book was A Tale of Two Cities, which had been Jane Granger’s favourite book; she had absolutely loved it. She had passed on that love to Hermione. All that time she had spent looking for it... She couldn’t believe the book had been in the attic all along. She wanted to kick herself.
She leafed through the book. She smiled as she saw where her mother had folded the corners of the pages in the parts she really liked. When the book got lost, Hermione had been on her fourth reading, and as she reached the end of the book, she found a bookmark where she had stopped reading the last time. However, it was not any bookmark.
Hermione stared at the photograph for several seconds. Everything seemed to stop.
A younger Hermione was looking up at her, smiling broadly and giggling, as Ron planted kisses on her cheek. He had his arms wrapped tightly around her. They had taken the picture at the beach, in Cornwall, almost four years before, when they had taken a holiday as soon as they got out of St. Mungo’s after the final battle. The wind was blowing gently on their faces...
Of all the pictures she had of her and Ron, this was her favourite.
She had completely forgotten about it. It seemed to her now that it was amazing just how many things she had forgotten. She forgot about the happy, fulfilling life she once led. And she couldn’t believe it. She could not believe how much she had messed things up.
In that moment, Hermione wondered about the same thing that had been giving her nightmares such a long time ago. She wondered what would have happened if she had not been so stupid, so selfish, so irrational. What would have happened had she not given up on Ron. Had she not walked away that night.
“What are you having?”
“Oh, I don’t know yet... There are so many good choices...”
“Well, make up your mind soon,” Ron told her. “I’m starving.”
“You’re always starving,” Hermione laughed. She surveyed Ron from behind her menu. “You... You don’t have anywhere to be right now, do you?”
“Of course not,” said Ron, a bit too quickly.
Hermione have him a hesitant smile.
They were at a very good restaurant in Diagon Alley. Ron had taken her out for dinner tonight. Things had not been going too well lately between them. Ron seemed to have taken his Auror training a bit too seriously, and that meant she was spending less and less time with him. He was becoming reclusive, too. Both Harry and Hermione thought Ron was too immersed in the Ministry’s Auror Training Program”it felt as if Ron was in “Hermione-O.W.L./N.E.W.T. mode” most of the time. They were getting a bit worried, to be honest.
“What are we going to do this weekend? I was thinking we could””
“Actually,” Ron interrupted Hermione, “I was hoping to go into the Ministry to work with Kingsley on a few things. He promised he would help me train on his free time.”
“Of course,” said Hermione. She looked away.
“What?”
“Ron...” she hesitated. “Why don’t we spend this weekend together?”
“Come on, I already told you.”
“To be perfectly honest with you... I think you’re taking this training too far.”
“Not again, Hermione... First Harry, then Mum, now you?”
“I actually miss having you around,” said Hermione. “We all do. You tend to go away for long periods of time, and then we”I can’t see you as often... I don’t even want to think about how things will be once I start teaching at Hogwarts. And... Well, lately it seems something is bothering you all the time. It’s as if you’re angry. What’s going on? Why don’t you want to tell me anything anymore?”
“Why can’t you face that I’m finally good at something I really like?”
“You’re missing the whole point, Ronald. I just””
“You just want me to be with you all the time, don’t you?” asked Ron defiantly. “Don’t be so bloody selfish.”
“Ron...” said Hermione, as if she had just received a punch to her stomach. Her voice was almost a whisper. “I just want you to be honest and open with me. Clearly, there is something bothering you. Why are you behaving like this?”
“Sir,” a waiter interrupted, “you have received a message.” He handed him a small piece of parchment.
“Thank you,” said Ron. He looked at the parchment and sighed. He remained silent for a few moments.
“You’re leaving, aren’t you?”
Ron looked up and saw Hermione looking down, staring intently at her hands.
“I... I can put it off.”
“No. You know what? I won’t even make you choose.” Hermione stood up and grabbed her small handbag, which matched perfectly with the blue dress she had bought specifically for that evening. “I’m leaving. You go and do whatever it is that can’t wait until tomorrow morning. Go on; go and share your life with whomever it is that you spend so much time with.”
“Don’t,” said Ron, taking hold of her hand. “Let’s talk about this.”
“I already tried my best,” said Hermione, her voice quivering. She managed to get her hand out of Ron’s grip and stood there looking at him for a moment, with tears swimming in her eyes.
“I have no idea of what is going on with you anymore. You’re so secretive, all the time. You’ve... changed.”
Another day over. Another day he was buying his wife flowers. They didn’t have any place to put them anymore.
Michael left the flower shop and walked over to the Leaky Cauldron to Floo home. Since he had been so exhausted lately, he had stopped driving his new Bentley to work.
He was walking out into his living room within a few minutes. He dragged himself over to the kitchen, where he found Hermione sitting at the table, staring blankly at her cup of tea. He placed the flowers in front of her.
“I think you are smart enough to know that I’ve become immune to flowers,” she told him.
“What’s going on?”
“I’m fine.”
“That’s not what I asked you.” He sighed. “How’s Jane?”
“She’s fine. She slept through most of the day.”
“Great. What’s for dinner?”
“You want to eat? You cook. I’m going to bed.”
“This early?”
“Michael, I’ve had a very trying day. Don’t make it longer than it already is.”
“Well, I need to tell you something,” Michael said. Hermione turned to face him. “I sent the Goblins away today.”
“What do you mean?”
“I broke off all talks. They were draining the life out of me. I can’t keep going on like that. And I’m sorry because I’ve been bringing work home with me all these weeks.”
“‘Sorry...’ You are always ‘sorry,’ Michael,” Hermione said bitterly, getting up and placing her full cup of tea in the sink. “I’m tired of ‘sorry.’ It seems to be your favourite word in the English language. You don’t care of what you do today because then you can be ‘sorry’ tomorrow.”
“Hermione, I””
“I have been taking care of our ill daughter for a week, all by myself. I am the one that gets up in the middle of the night. I am the one that takes care of her when she cries. Your body is here, but your mind is in London. You are never here. You can’t stop thinking about work,” Hermione continued, angrily wiping a tear off her face. “It was like you didn’t care about me anymore! You chose to not open up to me. I wanted to share your accomplishments! You have no idea, none at all, of how proud I was”I still am”of you! Of how much I really love you! But all you kept thinking was that I”I envied you, or something... Always so bloody immature... And now you come back and expect everything to be normal. You expect me to fall back into your arms like nothing ever happened. And it is so hard to resist you. There is nothing I want more than to forget everything that has happened, go back in time, and make no mistakes. But you have to face that the Ministry has you on a leash! And I can’t compete with that! They call and you drop””
“Hang on,” Michael quickly interrupted. “What do you mean, ‘the Ministry has you on a leash’? You are not making any sense.”
“I”I don’t...” She went too far with it. She slipped. She should have stopped talking ages ago.
“I meant the corporation. The company... It has you all tied up. Anyway, Jane needs you around. You can’t let your work stop you from spending time with your daughter.”
“I know. The thing with the goblins... It’s over. Everything will be back to normal in no time.”
“I was going to fix us a nice dinner, but I am exhausted.”
“Well, that is perfect because I ordered a nice dinner,” said Michael.
“What?”
“Once Jane falls asleep we can dig in.”
It was Sunday evening, and Michael and Hermione had spent all day in Edinburgh with Jane. Their first anniversary had been truly special.
“But I’ll have to take a shower first,” Michael said, starting to go up the stairs, Jane in his arms. “I’m filthy.”
“I’ll be up in a minute,” Hermione replied, walking into the sitting room. She noticed the pile of mail in the coffee table, and quickly rummaged through it to see if there was any news from Ginny or Molly. Most letters were for Michael, but there was a large envelope addressed to Hermione that heightened her curiosity. It had no return address. She promptly opened it.
I think you should have this. You have a right to know how your husband likes to spend his time in France, the letter simply read.
Attached to the letter were two black and white photographs. On the first one, Hermione recognized Michael, who was wearing a baseball cap, with his arms wrapped around a blonde woman with thin, toothpick-like legs. She couldn’t make out her face, and the fact that she was wearing huge sunglasses did not help matters. The legs gave her a good idea of who it was, though. They were at a cafe in what seemed like a busy Parisian street, both sitting down at an outdoor table; the woman was sitting reclining on Michael. Hermione felt revulsion as she saw how he kissed her neck.
But it was the second picture that made her gasp. When she looked at it, Hermione thought she would die.
Michael and the blonde-haired woman, who Hermione could now confirm was Patricia Walters, were at a beach, lying down in the sand as they made out. Michael was just wearing his swim trunks. Patricia was topless.
Hermione stared at the pictures for several moments, not believing what was right in front of her.
“Alright,” said Michael. “The princess is in””
He stopped suddenly, right when he saw Hermione’s horrified face. She let out a sob as soon as she saw him and covered her mouth with her hands to muffle it.
“Christ,” Michael said urgently. “What happened?”
Hermione kept sobbing hard as tears slid down her face. She felt as if she did not have enough air.
“Hermione, please tell me what’s””
And then he saw. The note. The pictures.
Michael panicked in a way he had never done before. This was the moment he had feared for such a long time. This was the reason his conscience screamed at him every time he lied to his wife.
“Fuck,” was the only thing that came out of his mouth.
Hermione just sobbed.
Michael started to breathe quite hard, as he racked his brain for an explanation. He stood in front of his wife thinking that could lie again, although there was a 99.9 percent chance Hermione would not believe him, or he could come clean. Either way, he did not know what to tell her.
“Hermione, I””
“I trusted you!” she screamed at the top of her lungs. “I believed every disgusting word that came out of your mouth!”
“Hermione, please let me explain.” Michael started to cry.
“You”miserable”bastard!” She was now hitting Michael’s chest as hard as she could, tears streaming down her cheeks. “You”arrogant”arse! You”stupid””
“Hermione””
“I’m a laughingstock, Michael,” she continued, sobbing. “How could you do this to me?”
For a moment, everything remained quiet. Only their sobs could be heard.
“I didn’t mean to”to hurt you,” Michael finally said. “I just””
“Oh, you didn’t mean to hurt me?” Hermione kept screaming hysterically. “What the fuck did you think was going to happen? Did you really believe I was never going to find out?”
Michael said nothing. His face was buried in his hands.
“I ignored every single report of infidelity there was.” Hermione’s voice was back to its normal volume, but she was still sobbing. “I decided to believe you. I decided to trust you. I thought you were done with your bachelor days when we got married. I thought you were committed to me. To Jane.”
“And I am,” Michael insisted. “I truly am. I broke it off. I broke it off as soon as Jane was born.”
“That was just seven months ago, Michael! Am I supposed to feel better because you broke your affair off just a few months ago? Patricia came into the picture before we were even married! This went on for months! I was lying on a hospital bed while you went away and had a little holiday!” Hermione shrilled.
“And Susan...” she continued, her voice dripping with disgust. “I... I know you were...” She couldn’t go on.
“I’ve known all along, haven’t I?” Hermione said, almost to herself, as tears kept steadily streaming down her face. “But you told me... You said that nothing was going on. You told me, Michael. You promised me. I guess I believed you because it was easier. And because I desperately wanted to believe that you had set your priorities straight. Merlin, how fucking stupid of me! When Patricia arrived, you just quickly dismissed the secretary, didn’t you? You changed the model. You... You change women just like you change cars.”
Even Hermione was surprised to hear this coming out of her mouth.
“Hermione... I don’t love them. I love you.”
“You say you love me. And yet... you betrayed me. You betrayed our relationship. You made it a mockery. A joke. All this time... You have been laughing behind my back. You and who knows how many others...”
Hermione’s heart was filled with embarrassment. With disappointment. She had worked so hard to convince herself that there was nothing going on between Michael and another woman. She had worked so hard to convince herself that her mind was playing tricks on her. Even when it seemed obvious. Even when she knew everyone gossiped about it. She had chosen to believe her husband.
Deep down, she was not that surprised to confirm he was cheating. She knew what Michael’s reputation was when she got involved with him, but she had been so sure he had changed. When Jane was born he seemed happier, he seemed to really enjoy his time with his family. It was all a sham.
The conversation between Ron and Ginny she had overheard came back to her.
“Hermione lets him get away with everything,” Ron had said.
And she knew he was right.
Michael was sitting down on the sofa, still crying. Hermione steeled herself for what she was about to say.
“I... I think we should... I think we... I need space.”
“No, Hermione,” Michael almost screamed. He was hysterical. “Please don’t do this. Please don’t.”
“You have to move out. I can’t look at you anymore.” She surveyed him for a moment. “You have been such a disappointment, Michael. All this time, you have been such a bloody disappointment.”
“Hermione, you can’t do this to me!” Michael looked deranged. “You can’t separate me from Jane!”
“I don’t want to separate you and Jane. But I can’t bear your presence in my house any longer. And I am not letting you take her. I can’t.”
“What about me? This is my house, too. Jane is my daughter, too.”
“You didn’t think about me when you slept with Patricia or Susan, did you? You never considered the consequences,” said Hermione, her voice breaking once more. “Why should I care about you? You walked all over me.”
“I never meant for any of this to happen. I never meant to hurt you, Hermione.”
“No, Michael,” said Hermione, sobbing. “You just never meant to get caught.” And then she walked out of the room.