Marissa's step faltered only a little when she reached the door to see that Cyril had not moved from his position at it.  She went past him into the house, her gaze lingering on him even though he did not look back at her, and this time she tried hard to consider why he wanted this.  Bridget was right.  This had to be more than accepting that Cyril had a perversion and dealing with it.  It had to be about Marissa understanding<em>why.</em><br/><br/>She tried to keep an open mind; judging her husband would do nothing to further her goal of reconciling with him.  In the end, it was becoming clearer:  she loved him and needed to understand him.  He had made decisions that hurt her, yes, but he had also made a decision in the end that she was worth to him giving up his desires.  She had to make a commitment to him of the same depth; his happiness was worth her discomfort, and to truly love her husband, she had to understand who he really was.<br/><br/>Bridget was behind her, and Marissa winced inwardly as she listened to how the other woman spoke to Cyril.<em>Nobody said this was going to be easy, Marissa,</em>she told herself.  But a new determination filled her, and she knew she would be able to do this.  She<em>wanted</em>to, for her marriage.<br/><br/>She took a seat at Bridget's request, noting how different the woman's tone was with her.  Her words were a command, just as they had been to Cyril, and yet, even within the breadth of a moment, the tone had changed.  For Cyril, the command to enter had left no doubt of the expectation of obeyance; for Marissa, the softer tone implied invitation rather than demand.<br/><br/>Taking a cup of tea, she sipped it, noticing that Cyril was ignored.  It was awkward for her, but she said nothing, instead watching with interest his reactions to Bridget's behavior.  After all, her lesson had already begun, hadn't it?