The door had barely slammed behind Frank when the tremble in my hands stopped being fear and turned into something else entirely:
Anger.
Not the quiet kind I used to swallow during our marriage.
Not the polite kind that stayed locked in my throat.
Not the tired kind that whispered I wasn't enough.
No.
This was a wildfire.
It burned everything old inside me the shame, the insecurity, the silence he had trained me into. The version of me he sculpted over years of manipulation, cold criticism, and emotional neglect.
I didn't just close the door.
I walked toward it, opened it again, and yelled after him:
"FRANK!"
He froze halfway down the stairs, shoulders stiffening at the sound of my voice. He turned slowly, looking up at me like he expected me to fall into pieces again.
Like he expected the Leah he could bulldoze.
The Leah he could guilt.
The Leah he could shame.
The Leah who would fold under a single glare.
Not today.
Not ever again.
He raised a brow. "What?"
I stepped out into the hallway, shutting the door behind me so I wouldn't have anything to hide behind. My voice came out clear.
"We're not done."
His expression tightened. "Leah"
"No." I cut him off. "You came into my home to demand answers, accuse me, insult me and you expected me to take it. Like always." I shook my head, breathing hard but steady. "But I'm not the woman you walked over for years. I'm not your wife anymore. And you don't get to treat me like that."
Something flickered across his face surprise. Then annoyance.
"Now is not the time for"
"NO," I repeated, louder this time. "You don't get to decide the time or the tone anymore."
His jaw clenched. "You're being ridiculous."
"I'm being free."
He blinked.
I stepped closer, eyes locked on his. "You asked me, 'How could you?' So here's your answer."
He exhaled sharply, like he was bracing himself.
"You shattered our marriage long before Edward came into my life," I said. "You think I didn't know you were drifting? That I didn't see how you looked at me like I was a burden instead of a partner?"
Frank's lips parted, but no words came out.
"You think sleeping with your therapist was the first betrayal? No, Frank. The betrayal started when you stopped seeing me. When you stopped touching me. When you stopped caring about anything except how I made you look."
He swallowed, eyes narrowing. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"I know exactly what I'm talking about," I snapped. "You made me feel invisible. You made me feel unwanted. You made me think I was the reason our marriage failed when you were the one who cheated."
His expression twisted. "It wasn't like that."
"It was EXACTLY like that!" I fired back. "You didn't even apologize. You didn't fight for me. You didn't show regret. You just replaced me."
He shut his eyes in frustration, not because he was ashamed.
I kept going. The words were a dam finally breaking.
"You had no right," I hissed. "No right to come here, demanding explanations. No right to talk to me like I'm a moral disaster. No right to judge me for falling for someone who actually gives a damn about me."
His eyes snapped open. "He's my son."
"He's an adult," I countered. "A man who makes his own decisions. A man who treats me better than you ever did."
His mouth tightened.
"And let's be clear," I added, voice low, sharp, and unforgiving, "I didn't leave you for him. I left you because you stopped being someone worth staying for."
It hit him.
Hard.
Like a slap he couldn't defend.
Frank's posture stiffened shoulders rising, eyes narrowing, breath quickening. He looked like a man stripped of excuses.
"You're angry," he said quietly. "You're hurt. You're not thinking straight."
"Oh, I've never thought clearer in my life."
He stepped closer. "This situation"
"Isn't your business," I cut in. "It stopped being your business the moment you stopped being my husband."
He looked away for the first time since arriving. His throat bobbed.
I took a step down the stairs toward him, voice strong.
"You think I should be ashamed, right? That I should hide? That I should fall apart because the man I slept with turned out to be your son?"
His jaw tightened.
"Well, guess what? I'm not ashamed."
I placed a hand on the railing, leaning slightly forward.
"And I'm not hiding."
He swallowed. "People will talk."
"Let them."
"It will ruin your reputation."
"You already did that when you cheated."
His eyes flashed hard.
"This won't end well," he warned.
"Maybe. But at least it's MY choice. Not something you decided for me. Not something you pushed me into."
My voice softened, just a breath.
"For the first time in years… I feel wanted. I feel seen. I feel alive. And nothing you say will take that away from me."
Frank stared at me in stunned silence.
There was anger there, definitely. But beneath it… something else. Something unexpected.
Regret.
Because for the first time, he saw me not as the woman he dismissed
but as the woman who walked away from him and found a love he couldn't control.
I straightened my spine.
He forced a calm breath. "So that's it? You're choosing him over everything you built with me?"
I gave a small, almost pitying smile.
"We didn't build anything, Frank. I built it. You burned it."
He flinched.
"And yes," I added, "I'm choosing him. Because he chose me first."
He looked like the ground had shifted under him.
I stepped back, hand on my doorknob. "I'm done letting you dictate my life. You don't get to walk into my home and talk down to me ever again."
Frank's voice dropped. "You're making a mistake."
"Maybe," I said quietly. "But if I am… it's mine to make."
His breath left him in a long exhale.
"You'll regret this," he said one last time.
I smiled sad, strong, final.
"No, Frank. I regretted us. I won't regret him."
And with that, I walked back inside and closed the door.
No tears.
No shaking.
No fear.
Just a quiet, unfamiliar feeling:
Victory.
For the first time, I fought back.
And I won.