Don't Tell Me That We're Through

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**August 11th 1978**
*Megan's POV*

I waited at home for Roger. I was expecting him to be home any minute now. He did buy a new car after all....

I felt too desperate... sure he was my husband but he needed his space. I wanted him home so badly. I needed him.

It started to get rather late in the day and Roger still wasn't back. Me, being me, I couldn't help but worry something had happened to him. I realised staying at home was only making me overthink. I decided to bring the kids out for a walk and maybe over to Chrissie's.

I got the kids ready and put Luke in his pram. He was rather heavy for a 5 month old and Roger usually carried him. The kids kept asking where Roger was. I didn't want to worry them so I told them he was on the way home. It was almost reassurance for me as well.

We kept walking through our neighbourhood and I distracted the kids from Roger by making them laugh. I wasn't taking much notice of my surroundings, because my mind was somewhere else, but Aidan pointed out that Roger was coming down the road.

"Mummy look! It's dad!"

I looked up from the pram and saw, practically my worst nightmare. Roger was walking down the road, sweating, no baggage, his clothes all holey and.... burnt?

I waited for him to catch up to us. He started walking faster and I noticed his face was crumpling as he got closer. He finally reached us and wrapped his arms around me and fell apart in my arms. I held onto him, hugging him as he bawled in my arms. The kids stood, looking dumbfounded. As was I. People were starting to stare at us. I pulled Roger off me and saw his beautiful tear stained face. "Roger what's wrong?" I asked.

"I've done something terrible...." he whispered.

"I'm sure it's not that bad. We'll sort it out. Now come on, we need to get you home...."

Roger shook his head. "Well you can't stay here all night!"

Roger looked up at me and I took his hand and lead him back to the house. He held onto Ellys hand too.

We reached the house and I told the kids to go upstairs and get ready for bed and they ran up the stairs. I sat Roger down at the table and made him a cup of tea. "What's wrong?" I asked. He didn't say anything. "Here," I said, let me get you something else to wear."

I went upstairs and got him his grey sweatpants and hoodie. I was so concerned about him. Why was he acting so odd?

I brought them downstairs and he got changed. "What happened to your clothes?" I asked. "Fire." He mumbled. "A fire where?" I asked. He hesitated. "The car. It went on fire. I put it out but... it's completely disintegrated.."

I now saw why he was so distraught.

"Awh Roger, you poor thing," I said, wrapping my arms around him. He looked down at the floor. "That wasn't your fault." I told him. He nodded. "No it wasn't. But I did something else..."

"Roger you're scaring me.... what's going on?"

He kept staring at the ground. "Roger?"

Nothing.

"Roger please. Whatever it is.... we'll sort it out. Just tell me the truth."

He looked up at me and cried. Most people don't look too great when they cried, but Roger was a beautiful crier.

"I don't want to hurt you..." he said.

"Roger I swear to God! Just tell me what's going on?!"

He stood up from the chair and so did I. He took my hands in his, still crying. Looking me straight in the eyes, he spoke.

"Megan, I am so so truly very sorry. I don't deserve you."

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