I would almost think that Seth had no reaction to my question, except for the subtle flash of panic behind his green gaze. He remains still, composed, but I know his mind is fluttering for explanations as he sits staring at me.

I don't tear my eyes away from him. I want him to know that I see him. I want him to know that nothing he does in this moment will go unnoticed. The fact that I saw even the teeniest glimpse of fear written on his face tells me that this isn't good. He's not about to spill some brilliant explanation for why those papers were in his bag. He's not going to tell me that he's holding onto them for a friend. He's not going to tell me that someone snuck them into his bag and he knows nothing about them.

No. Seth is entirely aware of those papers and he doesn't know how to tell me.

I hear him sigh, and my eyes narrow as I watch exhaustion seep into the lines around his eyes. He rubs a hand down his face and then drops his head, his gaze trained on the floor. I watch his breathing, knowing that he's constructing the perfect way to say his next words without shattering my entire world.

"Gosh, Merc," he begins to say, dread evident in his voice... or was that regret. It's hard to tell because I can't see his expression.

His eyes are still focused near his feet and I'm having to bend slightly to get a better view. But the moment he lifts his head, I see it all. His eyes find mine, pinning me in place with a look that's so broken and so raw, that I'm speechless.

"I didn't mean it," he tells me, and I just sit anxiously awaiting an explanation. He doesn't say anything else for several heartbeats, and I can feel my pulse accelerating with the suspense.

"What does that mean?" I finally say, unable to hold in my words for another moment as he pulls his thoughts together.

He glances at me again, almost as if I've startled him, and I realize then just how far away his mind was. I watch as he stretches his back and sits up straighter, turning to face me directly. I need answers, but he seems so hesitant to give them. It's driving me crazy. I'm this close to strangling them out of him.

"It's not what I wanted," he says. "I don't want a divorce. I never did."

"So why have the papers?" I ask, my voice more curious than accusatory.

I'm not in the mood to fight. I simply want to know what compelled him to consider ending our relationship. If it's because he's lost his love for me, then I can't be mad at him. I can't hate him for not feeling the way I want him to. But he seems so regretful that I'm almost wondering if there's more to it than I had first thought.

"They were a technique," he suddenly says, gaining my full attention.

"A technique?" I question, brows lifted and voice heavy with doubt. I'm not angry, but my mind is definitely busy putting the pieces together. He doesn't seem to be answering any of my questions. It shouldn't be this difficult. He should be able to talk to me. He should be able to express exactly what he's feeling. If I become aggressive and defensive then that'll only push him away. I have no intention of doing that.

"So," I start to say calmly, "you were hoping I'd find them so it'd put the thought in my head? You wanted me to start considering divorce as an option for our screwed-up relationship? You were hoping that I'd eventually be the one to take the next step in ending us?"

"What?" Seth questions, clearly uncomfortable with how this conversation is turning out. We're not sitting close by any means, but he still pulls back, distancing himself even more from me. "No. That's not what I meant." He scrubs his fingers through his hair, digging into his scalp in a way that makes my own head itchy and needy for a good scratch. I kick the absurd thought away and focus on Seth's words.

"It was a technique for myself." He pauses, glances towards the window for a moment before finding my eyes with his own again. "I needed to see how it'd feel if that were even a possibility. I needed to prepare myself for the day when you were the one presenting those papers to me."

I just stare at him, dumbfounded.

"Are you serious?" I nearly gasp. "You thought I'd be the one wanting a divorce?"

The question leaves my lips with a tad more heat than I'd expected, but I can't help myself. His words are just so ridiculous. But then again, he's just voicing his thoughts, and to be honest, his thoughts weren't all that far off from mine. We'd both suspected the other of infidelity. We'd both suspected the other of wanting a divorce. We'd both suspected the other of changed feelings.

Suddenly another thought is coming to mind. If I'd convinced myself that Seth no longer loved me, could it be possible that he'd done the same with me? Is it possible he thinks I don't love him anymore? Is it possible that he still loves me despite all the confusion and distance? Is it possible that we're both just so screwed up from communication issues that we never realized that everything could go right back to the way it was?

There are so many possibilities and I'm just about ready to change everything when Seth speaks. The three simple words that I'd planned on confessing suddenly go scurrying back into hiding, ready to make an appearance at the very next opportunity. For now, we need to focus on settling this whole divorce fiasco and then move on from there.

"I'm glad to see that you seem so appalled by the possibility of divorce," Seth is saying as I return my focus to him. "I guess that's one step in the right direction."

I laugh softly, not really seeing the conversation as humorous, but definitely seeing the absurdity of how we got here. Somehow the ridiculous nature of this conversation has me chuckling to myself. Seth doesn't join, but I can see that he's not bothered by my reaction. Maybe he feels it too. Maybe he understands how stupid all of this is. Maybe, for once, we're on the same page.

"That's really the only reason I had those papers in the first place," Seth goes on to explain.

"What do you mean?" I wonder aloud, scrunching my brows in question.

"I mean," he begins to say, scratching the sharp edge of his jaw, "I had considered getting a divorce for you—to make you happy. Isn't that what love is? To give up your own desires so that someone else can be happy?"

"What?" I have no words. In a very subtle way, I can't help but wonder if this is Seth's way of telling me he still loves me. He was willing to give me up because he loved me that much. Did he mean to say that? Did he mean for me to read into that statement the way that I am?

"You thought that a divorce would bring me happiness?" I ask after a moment.

I'm watching him intently as I shift on the bed to get a better view of his face. His eyes give away nothing. He's closed off—reserved. He's only willing to reveal what comes out of his mouth; the emotions that he usually has written on his face are absent. I know this look though, this look of indifference and hardness... he's trying to protect himself. He feels threatened after revealing so much and he's shutting down before I can wound him for his honesty.

But he doesn't realize that the last thing I wish to do is hurt him.

If anything, I'm ready to love him like I've never loved him before. I'm ready to love him with more than words and actions... I'm ready to love him with my heart. I don't want to just go through the motions anymore. I don't want to do things just because I know I should. They say love is a choice, but I want it to be so much more. I want it to be a passion.

Sure, I choose to love Seth, but I also want to feel it. I want to dream about him when he's at work; I want to anticipate his arrival each evening; I want to yearn for tender moments when his hand brushes mine; I want to crave the sound of his laughter, the smell of his skin, the taste of his lips, the heat in his eyes. I want to hunger for all of these things.

But then I realize something for the first time...

I already do.

I already want all of those things. I already dream, I already anticipate, I already yearn, I already crave. My hunger for my husband's love is powerful and demanding. I want it more than I want air because, without it, I'm not sure that life is worth living anyway. I need things to return to the way they once were. I need to feel comfortable around Seth. I need to be able to say whatever I want to say and do whatever I want to do around him without some twisted fear that he's going to reject me.

"Mercy," he says, breaking me from my intense thoughts. "I was at a point in my life when I was willing to give you anything you wanted just to see you happy again."

"You were?"

"Yes," he nods once, his expression soft, "even if that meant giving you up." He pauses briefly before continuing. "Though," he grins playfully, "Steve isn't half the man that I am."

I know he's joking, but his words have my stomach clenching with an angry discomfort.

"Don't." I put a hand up, forcing Seth not to say another word. "Firstly, don't ever do that again. Don't ever assume that I've got some secret fling going on with another man. I would never do that. I could be miserable, I could be lonely, I could hate you with every fiber of my being and I still would never ever cheat on you. Do you understand that? Even the thought is repulsive and I hope we never suspect each other of such despicable behavior again. I'm sorry for ever losing your trust," I tell him, pulling my legs up and crossing them in front of me. "I hope you and I can learn how to talk properly. I hope we never have to go through this again."

"Me too," Seth agrees, nodding his head as a small grin lifts his face.

His smile lights up his eyes in a way that makes them almost sparkle. He truly is a beautiful sight and I'm suddenly hit with the realization that I haven't lost him completely. We're both wounded. We've insulted each other by not having faith in one another, but we're not broken. We actually have hope, and the feeling bubbling inside of me has my mind circling around those three little words again. And before I can stop myself, they're tumbling from my lips.

"I love you, Seth."

I'm almost shocked by my own boldness, but then again, I tend to do things without thinking more often than not. It usually gets me into trouble, but today I'm feeling confident, which is why I don't stop there.

"I'm so in love with you that it's scary," I tell him earnestly.

I watch his face, eagerly awaiting his own confession of love, but as the seconds tick by, I realize that I won't be getting one. His mouth remains still, unmoving. There's no sound passing between his lips—no agreement, no verification of his mutual feelings. Nothing. He just looks at me, the hint of a smile still on his face, but apart from that, I see nothing. I'm not even sure if I see any affection gleaming from his eyes.

But then he scoots forward on the bed as he takes my face between his hands, his thumbs running over my jaw as he peers down at me. Slowly, he leans forward, my breath catching in my throat as his lips draw closer to mine. Just as my eyes are drifting shut, I feel him graze the sensitive patch of skin right at the corner of my mouth.

My eyes flutter open, shocked. As precious as this moment was, I'm shaken by the fact that he just kissed my cheek. I just told him I loved him, and he responds by kissing my cheek.

I should be angry, but I'm not. I'm too stunned to be angry. But then he speaks, and suddenly I'm unsure of everything we've just said to each other. Because while I muttered three very important words, he only muster up two simple ones:

"Thank you."

That's all he says. I pour my heart out. I confess to being in love with him, and the only response I get is a freaking 'Thank you.' And suddenly the moment is over. Seth is getting up and there's nothing I can do to stop him. I've done everything I can, and he couldn't even whisper those three little words in return.

Which has me wondering... has he truly stopped loving me after all?