Too Late

by Colleen Hoover

He grins and slips the ring on my finger. I look at it, holding it up to the light. I didn’t know Hell had so much sparkle.

But just because a lot of his behavior can probably be excused by whatever awful people were around him as a child, doesn’t mean I’m required to subject myself to a life of unhappiness simply because he loves me.

I guess that’s the difference between being loved the right way and the wrong way. You either feel tethered to an anchor… or you feel like you’re flying.