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On the surface, I have everything a woman could want. Beneath the surface is a completely different story, of course. Beneath the surface, it’s a total shitshow.
If I wanted someone else, this would be easy—but she’s the one. She has always been the one.
Once we’re alone, we can go back to our real relationship—one that can make the gladiator pits of Rome look like a day at the spa.
I don’t let the sorrow that floods me show on my face. We were in love once, this man and I. We shared everything, keeping no secrets from one another, our lives woven together like the threads of a tapestry. He was my soulmate, my best friend, my lover. Our passion lit up my heart and made me shine from the inside out. Now, there’s only one thing that Elijah and I seem to do well together. Lie.
Because slowly, as the years slipped past like thieves in the night, robbing us of so much time, I was edged out of my position as the number one priority in his life. Or more accurately, I saved him the trouble and removed myself from his list altogether.
We’ve both been fucking miserable for years, and I’m not sure there’s a way to change it. Shit. Maybe she’s right. Why am I even fighting this? Is it only because I’m stubborn—because I don’t like to fail? Or do I really think there’s hope for us?
I love my wife. I have never stopped loving her. But somewhere along the line, I stopped fighting for her.
“Good girl.”
“I don’t know—I feel a bit … surprised, I suppose. I know we’ve played a few of these games before, but not for a long time, and not this intensely. It’s a lot. I think I’m a little overwhelmed. Plus you got my pussy drunk and made me come so hard my brain has turned to mush.”
“That was one of a whole series of incidents. I stopped asking you to do anything or go anywhere with me because it hurt too much when you chose them over me. Every single time.” Is that really how she’s felt our entire marriage? Like she’s second best?
She licks her lips and then flashes me a well-you-asked-for-it-jackass look.
She brushes a tear from her eye. “The truth is, I learned to stop needing you a long time ago—I realized I couldn’t rely on you. But I never stopped hoping that you would choose me anyway.”
“Fuck, I was a crappy husband.”
I failed her in so many ways. She lost herself, and I failed to notice.
Tears flow down my cheeks, and he’s starting to tear up also. “I know, Amber. I know. I don’t want this either. I’ll leave now. I’m sorry. Fuck, I don’t even know what I’m sorry for. Both of us, I guess. We just can’t seem to get it right.”
We both need time. This is not a game I need to win—this is about the rest of our lives. It’s about honestly looking at our relationship and acknowledging the damage we’ve done. The patterns we seem unable to break.
He’s his usual chatty self, and I don’t think he notices anything off about me at all, but then, I am a master at this. At hiding my pain. I’m so good I could give a damn TED Talk on the subject.
