I’m sorry. I love, respect, and admire you in every way but I just can’t live with the fear any longer. Why did you take so long to tell me? When I wondered about all the time you spent away you told me it was because of work. I never believed you but was afraid to ask. You never told me until I found your headquarters in your basement. Why didn’t you trust me?
Now every moment you’re away I’m afraid that you’ve been killed by a supervillain—or that I’ll be killed in some revenge plot. And we have so little time together anymore. And you’re working with some of the sexiest men in the world. You told about how you were in love with Captain Durendal as a kid—now you’re working with him. If you took so long to tell me, and you’re such a good actress that you seem like a different person when you’re in the cape, how can I bring myself to trust you about anything else?
It takes courage to live your life. Maybe it takes even more to share it. I just don’t have that courage. I’m sorry.