Page 38 of The Words of Us

“Can we talk?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

I don’t know what to say. The words stick in my throat, tangled with the anger and hurt that’s still fresh, still raw.

But I nod, because even though I’m still furious, I need answers. I need to know why she did this. Why she kept this part of her life hidden from me.

Sasha steps forward, her eyes never leaving mine. And as she moves closer, I realize that whatever happens next, nothing between us will ever be the same.

20

SASHA

Iwalk toward the bookstore, every step heavier than the last. My heart feels like it’s caught in a vise, the pressure building with every block. I can see the familiar storefront ahead, but the thought of going inside makes my stomach twist. I don’t know if I have the right words for Evie. How do I explain why I hid something so big, why I kept my past locked away like some shameful secret?

The truth is, I’ve been running for so long I’m not sure I know how to stop.

As I get closer, the memories creep in, memories I’ve been trying to push down for years. They hit me all at once, images of the day I left Gareth. The moment everything fell apart.

I hadn’t planned on leaving that night. It just...happened.

I’d been standing in the hallway of our house, my fingers wrapped around the handle of a suitcase I’d barely packed. My heart was racing, the weight of everything pressing down on me, making it hard to breathe. Gareth was in the other room, sitting in front of the TV like nothing was wrong, like our life wasn’t crumbling around us.

“I can’t do this anymore,” I had whispered to myself, my voice trembling.

But the truth was, I’d been saying that for months, over and over in my head, trapped in a life that never felt like mine. The marriage, the house, the expectations—it was all something I’d been pushed into. I never wanted to marry Gareth. I never wanted to be someone’s perfect wife, but I said yes because it was easier than saying no, easier than fighting the inevitable. His family, my family, the pressure—it all wrapped around me, pulling me into a role I never asked for.

I remember standing in the doorway of the living room, watching him, trying to find the words. My mouth was dry, and my hands were shaking as I gripped the suitcase tighter.

“Gareth,” I said, my voice breaking the silence.

He didn’t look up from the TV, just gave a dismissive grunt. “What is it, Sasha?”

I took a deep breath, feeling the tightness in my chest, the fear and the guilt swirling together. “I’m leaving.”

That got his attention. He turned slowly, his eyes narrowing in confusion. “What do you mean, leaving?”

“I mean I can’t stay here anymore,” I said, my voice stronger than I felt. “I can’t keep pretending this is what I want.”

His expression darkened, the confusion replaced with a hard, cold anger. He stood up, crossing the room toward me, his presence filling the space like a storm cloud. “You’re not making any sense. We’re married, Sasha. This is your life. You don’t just walk out because things get tough.”

“I didn’t want this,” I shot back, my voice shaking now. “I never wanted this. You pushed me into it. Your family, mine—they decided everything for me. But I can’t keep living like this. I’m suffocating.”

Gareth’s jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “We made a commitment. You can’t just leave because you’re feeling trapped. That’s not how this works.”

Tears burned at the corners of my eyes, but I forced them back, refusing to let him see how scared I was. “You don’t understand. I’ve been trapped since the day I said yes. This marriage—it’s not real. It’s just... it’s just something we did because it was expected.”

He stared at me for a long moment, his eyes hard and unyielding. “So, what? You’re just going to run away? You think that’s going to fix everything?”

I didn’t have an answer. All I knew was that staying was slowly killing me. Every day in that house, every moment in that life that wasn’t mine—it was too much. I wasn’t Sasha anymore. I was someone else, someone who lived for other people, for their expectations and their plans. And I couldn’t do it anymore.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice breaking as the guilt finally hit me. “I’m sorry for the way I’m doing this, but I have to go.”

He didn’t say anything, just stood there, staring at me with a mixture of anger and disbelief. And in that moment, I felt the weight of it all—the guilt, the fear, the shame of leaving without a proper goodbye. But I couldn’t stay. Staying would’ve meant losing myself completely.

I turned, pulling the door open, and as I stepped outside into the cool night air, I felt the tears finally spill over. I didn’t look back. I couldn’t. I just kept walking, leaving everything behind—the house, the marriage, the person I had been pretending to be.

Now, as I stand outside the bookstore, the memory feels like a fresh wound, raw and aching. I left Gareth because I had to. I didn’t know how else to save myself. But I never told Evie about that part of my life, and now it’s come back to haunt me. And the worst part is, I can’t even say I regret leaving. I regret how I left, but not the leaving itself. It was the only way I knew how to breathe again.

But Evie deserves more than that. She deserves the truth, all of it, no matter how much it hurts.

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