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Little Black Book of Eventually Read Secrets
"I'm sorry..."
We sat there in stunned silence, our child sitting beside me watching a video on my phone.

My heart is completely broken by his words, my chest heavy. I'm so unbelievably numb, and yet, I'm raw. I am acutely aware of everything around me, every small movement.

I'm acutely aware of the fact my child is sitting next to me, and I cannot scream. I cannot cry. I cannot show any emotion other than a smile.

And he just told me I don't make him happy anymore.

In my head, I'm screaming. I'm sobbing. I'm laughing at the irony. Thoughts race through me faster than I can grasp. 'You couldn't tell me this before you ******** got me pregnant?' 'Of course I don't. I finally find my normal, I finally find a way to reattach myself to everything important in my life--to you, to Tom--and of course, now, I don't make you happy.' 'Rob would probably be laughing his a** off right about now...I deserve this, don't I? I'm not allowed to be happy...'

"How long?" I whisper as I change the video on Tom's phone, my voice shaking slightly. I won't look at him, though I know he's looking at me. I can't. If I look, then I lose it all...And if this is how our marriage is going to end, I'll be damned if I break down in front of our son. Why did this have to happen here? While he's awake?

"When did I stop making you happy?"

There's a long silence, and I direct my gaze to my knees. His arm is around me, and it's squeezing my shoulder. Perhaps attempting to pull me closer. But no. This will not be buried. You've spoken your words. Now face them.

You've broken my heart.

Now face me.

"I-I don't know." You whisper, your head bowed slightly. You're not looking at me anymore, and I spare a glance at you. Your face is a mask. There's no emotion...But that's how it normally goes, isn't it? I did this exact same thing to you, after all, what feels like so many years ago...I can relate to the detachment of emotions when you know you're hurting the one person you love most.

"It's not that you don't make me happy," He eventually pipes in, looking to me now, and I feel the desperation in his tone. He's trying to cover it. He regrets the words he's said, the pain he's inflicted.

But I feel humiliated. I feel numb. My heart hurts bad enough that I can't breathe. But I've been forced to smile through it, with our son on my lap.

No.

This will not be covered.

When our son runs to the kitchen, I place my hands in my lap, and a bitter smile takes my lips. It's tight, yet the sadness in it is profound. And perhaps, this is matched in my voice, as I eventually look up to you, my eyes watering as I'm filled to the brim with pain, "I don't believe you." I whisper.

"The silence was too long, for that to be the truth."

I get up and wipe my eyes quickly, before straightening my shirt and walking past him to the kitchen, where my son is keeping busy being a menace. I fix his bottle, the painfully fake smile on my lips.

I can't do this to him. I can't cry in front of my boy. 'Be strong.' I tell myself, 'Just until you put him to bed.'

With that, I screw the top of the bottle on, and take his little hand in mine, and I lead us to the stairs. I do not look at my husband. I cannot.

I can only put my one foot in front of the other.

I hug Tom tightly as I stand before his crib, giving him a long kiss on the cheek as he drinks his bottle in my arms. "Mommy loves you, sweetheart," I whisper into his ear as I breathe in the scent of his hair, then finally, I lay him down to sleep and tuck him in, handing him his favorite bunny and brushing the hair from his face.

I leave the room and close the door softly, resting my head on it, before sucking in a deep breath and looking to the stairs. I can't go back down there. So, instead, I turn to my bedroom, and enter, closing the door behind me.

I walk to my side of the bed, each step feeling heavier as I walk. Behind the doors of my bedroom, the weight of it all presses in on me now, and the heart ache is almost too much to bear.

Where will I go? Can I leave Thomas here and stay at my parents? He won't sleep at their house, he loves his crib...Who could ever love me...I'm about to have a baby...What am I going to do...

With each question, I swallow harder, trying to keep my emotions intact. Standing beside the bed, slowly, I sink onto it, my hands in my lap, my fingers playing with my rings.

And I smile bitterly. God, does this ever feel like 2015...I've never been on the receiving end of being told I don't make someone happy. I've never gone through this...

I'm such an idiot.

I've completely taken him for granted.

At that thought, I bow my head, and close my eyes tightly, biting my lip. Just then, the door opens, and out of instinct I jump. But I don't look, because I know it's him, and we must continue this discussion.

He must face me...

And I suppose, I must finally face him.

I swallow hard. I'm so numb, I can't think clearly as I feel the bed sink from his weight. I feel his nearness, as he lays behind me, his arm extended, his hand reaching out. He grasps my arm and gently pulls, and it takes little coaxing as he whispers, "Come here."

At his words, I instantly begin to shake as my resolve dissolves, and my emotions are laid bare before this man that I love. My broken heart is visible for him to see, from the tears that run down my cheeks now as I curl up in the fetal position, to the sobs that wrack me to my core as I wrap an arm around my swollen, pregnant belly. My other wrapped around myself in a comfortless embrace.

He pulls me in closer, his arms wrapped tightly around me, pulling me against him, gripping me. A motion that says, 'I'm not letting go', but one that brings only confusion.

This is your chance to run. Why aren't you taking it?

I bring a hand to my face as I sob painfully, and he buries his face into my hair, his hand gripping mine over my belly, "I love you," I cry through the sobs, "All I want is you."

"I know." He whispers into my hair, his voice full of regret. Pain, "I know."

"Y-You know I'm 7 months pregnant with our little girl, right?" I cry into his arm, closing my eyes tightly. And he nods quickly, pulling me tighter, "I know," He responds, his hand gripping my abdomen harder.

I cry harder. The pain in my heart is louder, it's drowning me. I'm panicking. I can't do this. I can't raise two children on my own. But this is how marriages end, right? When one person decides that the other can no longer fulfill their needs, this is the natural course. This is the end. He's going to leave me.

But I'm 7 months pregnant with our little girl. And I'm barely keeping it all together at my best. How am I supposed to do this at my worst?

Without you, I'm at my worst.

"Please don't leave me." I whisper hoarsely through the sobs, "I-I can't do this without you. I don't want to do this without you."

You shift me in your arms, pulling my arm so I roll over to face you. You cup the back of my hand and pull it to your chest, your other arm holding me protectively.

"I'm not going anywhere," You whisper into my hair, and by this point, it's obvious to me that you're crying too. I feel it in the cool air hitting my wet shoulder from where you buried your face. I hear it now in your chest, from the ragged breathing.

"B-But I can't make you happy!" I sob into your chest, shaking my head.

"Y-You do." You whisper in return.

Then why?

If it's hurting you this much. If you're hurting as much as me...Why break my heart?

What could you have possibly gained in this?

Why say what you did...?

I push these thoughts away, however. It's not important. What is important, is that I somehow save our marriage. I don't want to fight anymore. Such thoughts only bring bitterness, and coldness. They only bring a fight.

I won't do this without you. So if I need to beg...

"I only want you," I whisper, "Why am I not good enough? What have I done? I'm sorry, I know I haven't been a good person lately. I-I have no control over any of this. I-I-I'm sorry!"

All the fighting.

We've been fighting so much lately.

And then earlier, I fainted in the shower. And you left me there for an hour and a half.

No concern showed on your face. None have been there for months now, when any other man would've been losing it.

We're broken. We're so broken.

And I'm so alone in all of this.

You've abandoned me.

But I need you.

My sobs sound different, and perhaps this is something that you've picked up on when you pulled me into your arms.

This isn't just...a fight. This isn't just an argument.

I think you realized that you actually broke my heart. Something you have not done in such a long time, if ever...I don't think you were prepared to face that. I don't think you were prepared for me to hurt this much.

You slide a hand to my cheek, and tilt my head up. Your lips find mine as you wipe the tears from my face, and my fingers find their grip in your hair, the other clutched to your shirt over your heart. I return your kiss, but I'm still shaking, and when you break it, you move your lips to my ear and whisper, "I"m so sorry."

I shake my head, and you whisper it again, pulling me closer. My grip tightens. By now my sobs have started to soften, and slowly they stop as I rest my head on your shoulder. Your hand slides under my shirt and rests on the small of my back, and the touch of your skin on mine is a balm to the pain. Slowly, you slide your hand up my back, along my spine.

I whisper to you that you broke my heart, and you nod, and as you kiss my neck, you whisper, "I'm sorry." Again. With each kiss you trail along my skin, you whisper it, your tone desperate for forgiveness, your touch desperate to ease the pain. To repair the damage.

I close my eyes as your lips slowly near mine.

"Never do this to me again." I whisper, as I turn my head to you. And with your kiss, I know.

You're sorry.

But we're a long way from 'Okay'.

We're so broken.

But maybe...Maybe we'll find our way.

Azure Starwish
Community Member
  • [11/13/18 02:25pm]
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