Page 119 of A Love That Broke Us
I throw my pillow onto the couch and turn to him. “Please don’ttalk to me right now. I’m sleeping here tonight. You can go do whatever the hell you need to do.”
He takes a beat, his eyes flicking to me before he huffs out a breath. “Fine. Whatever. I’ll be in my office.”
He turns and walks away.
“Of course you will,” I mutter.
I watch him storm down the hallway and disappear into his dungeon, the door slamming shut behind him.
I sink into the couch, my mind racing—questions I never thought I’d ask surfacing more frequently with each passing moment.What am I going to do? What the hell was that?
I let myself cry for a long time, staring at nothing, trying to make sense of my life and the decisions I know I have to start making.
Jensen has to stop using. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t live with him like this.
My heart explodes inside my chest, and not in the way love does.
This is a bomb.
Pure chaos.
Shrapnel.
A heartbreak so sharp I feel it everywhere. Like the heart that once beat for us just stopped. And now, there’s nothing. No rhythm. No pulse. Nothing.
My shoulders tremble, and my head throbs with pressure so intense I swear it might burst. The salt of my tears burns my skin, and my chest aches so badly I can’t breathe. I gasp for air, each breath followed by a groan.
Life has been so damn hard the past few months. I feel parts of myself slipping away, right along with Jensen. I’m not happy. I rarely laugh. I hardly even smile. I’ve shut everyone out. I’m quiet at work. I don’t engage in conversations. I’ve completely withdrawn from my friends.
I keep it all inside because I’m scared to say it aloud. I’m embarrassed. I’m ashamed this is what my marriage has become. I’m afraid. I’m sad. And I’m so damn lonely.
But most of all—I’m angry.
Angry at Jensen for leaving me.
At myself for staying.
At God for destroying us.
Losing myself has been hard, but that’s not the hardest part. I can deal with that. I can handle that.
The hardest part is watching Jensen lose. Watching him destroy his body. Seeing the parts of him that are so incredibly good slip farther and farther away.
Watching the light leave his eyes.
The smile leave his face.
Sitting by as the things he used to love no longer seem to matter. One of them being me.
I know that’s not true. I know he loves me. I know I matter to him. That’s what makes this such torture, for both of us.
I’m not ready to give up on him. Every part of me aches to be held in his arms. To have the old Jensen look into my eyes. To make me smile. To watch football together. To laugh at his stupid jokes.
God, I want him back.
I cry for what feels like hours. Breaking for everything we once had. For me. For Jensen. Even for my mom—for what she went through with my dad. For him drowning in a bottle when she left this earth. She didn’t get to see the real him one last time.
I can’t do that.
