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“Marry me.”

This is something he’s clearly thought about a lot, probably from the beginning since he moved in.

He’s always been so forward about it, but I never took the small comments or little actions seriously. I’ve always assumed that the shiny newness would wear off, and he would move on.

But here he is, before me, saying he wants to... marry me?

“I’m not like you,” I say quietly. “I can’t jump in with two feet like you can. I can’t say yes to you because it would be a lie.”

“What would be a lie?”

“All of it. Everything. And it would all fall apart because it would be a sham. It wouldn’t mean anything.”

“No. It wouldn’t.”

“Exactly.”

“No. You mishear me.” He takes my face between his palms. “It wouldn’t be a sham because I love you, Elsie.” He says with the confidence of a man who truly is in love. “And that means everything.”

I choke back the sob that wants to come out of my throat and push down the tears that want to form in my eyes.

“Marry me, Elsie.”

He can’t mean that.

He can’t say shit like that.

This isn’t love.

Marriage isn’t supposed to be magical and all-consuming. It’s not this fantasy children are raised to believe it is.

And love doesn’t solve everything.

It only makes things worse.

Love is the beginning of the end of all relationships.

Because loving someone is giving a part of yourself to them, it’s being vulnerable with them.

I can’t do that.

“No.” I shudder. “No. Marshall. I can’t.”

The hope in his eyes dies out, his face falling in that exact second, and I pull away to shield myself from the backlash of hurt I’ve just caused that will surely come next.

“Elsie.” He says, a break coming through in my name.

“I said no, Marshall. No.” I whisper. “Now, please. Leave.”

Marshall, with slumped shoulders, gathers his clothing and moves to leave the bedroom.

My heart stops when he pauses in the doorway and glances back at me.

I wait with bated breath to hear what he says, but instead, he just shakes his head and leaves.

Just like I asked.

He’s gone.

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