Page 797 - Enders_Game_Full_Book

"Quim's death was the last straw. If it hadn't been for Jane, if Mother had really believed you belonged to her, heart and soul, she would have turned to you when Quim died, instead of turning away."
Miro had said the thing that Ender had dreaded all along. That it was Ender's own fault. That he had not been the perfect husband. That he had driven her away. And the worst thing was that when Miro said it, Ender knew that it was true. The sense of loss, which he had already thought was unbearable, suddenly doubled, trebled, became infinite inside him.
He felt Miro's hand, heavy, clumsy, on his shoulder.
"As God is my witness, Andrew, I never meant to make you cry."
"It happens," said Ender.
"It's not all your fault," said Miro. "Or Jane's. You've got to remember that Mother's crazy as a loon. She always has been."
"She had a lot of grief as a child."
"She lost everybody she ever loved, one by one," said Miro.
"And I let her believe that she had lost me, too."
"What were you going to do, cut Jane off? You tried that once, remember?"
"The difference is that now she has you. The whole time you were gone, I could have let Jane go, because she had you. I could have talked to her less, asked her to back off. She would have forgiven me."
"Maybe," said Miro. "But you didn't."
"Because I didn't want to," said Ender. "Because I didn't want to let her go. Because I thought I could keep that old friendship and still be a good husband to my wife."
"It wasn't just Jane," said Miro. "It was Valentine, too."
"I suppose," said Ender. "So what do I do? Go join up with the Filhos until the fleet gets here and blows us all to hell?"
"You do what I do," said Miro.
"What's that?"
"You take a breath. You let it out. Then you take another."