Page 97 of Untying the Knot
“But not telling me the truth has only led to frustration and hurt anyway.”
“I see that now,” she says. “I guess there’s no true way to break apart a love you thought would last forever.”
A love I still wish would last forever. A love I don’t want to give up on, but it very well might be out of my hands.
Unable to look her in the eyes, I ask, “Is that what you still want? To break this apart?”
“I didn’t break anything, Ryot. So don’t place that blame on me.”
“No, I’m not,” I quickly say. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant . . . do you still want the divorce?”
When I glance up at her, she looks me dead in the eyes, and without skipping a beat, she says, “Yes, I do.”
I rub my lips together and nod. “Can I ask why? Why you don’t think we can fix this?”
“Because I’m just so hurt. I feel so alone. The damage has already been done. I feel so resentful toward you, Ryot, a feeling I never thought I’d feel. I’ve only felt resentful toward two other people in my life, my mom and dad. I haven’t, nor will I ever be able to get over those feelings.”
“I’m nothing like your mom,” I say, the comparison slicing me open to my very core. I have never, ever raised a hand to her in anger.I could never do that.
“I know you’ve never hurt me physically, Ryot. I know you’d never do that.”Thank fuck.
“So how am I—”
“Because of how you’ve ignored me. When Mom wasn’t hurting me, wasn’t...pushing me into walls or into tables, she was cold and distant. And all I can remember was feeling so, so alone. Vulnerable. And then there was my dad. What he did...I felt so ...abandoned. That is what I’ve been feeling for months. With you.” She takes a deep breath. I can barely stand, knowing I’ve hurt her so deeply. “It’s hard to realize as a wife that you come second, that your opinion doesn’t matter, that you will and can be forgotten. Something I knew a lot about growing up in a military family. I never had a say, and I hate that I married into that same situation. They say you marry your father, and it looks like I did. He broke me first. But you...” She sighs. “I’m not in a good mental space, Ryot. I don’t like being here. I want to be near Nichole . . .” Her eyes well up, and her teeth roll over her bottom lip, cluing me into something.
“Is . . . is something going on with Nichole?” I ask.
She dabs at her eyes and says, “The cancer might be back. She hasn’t told me. But I never wanted to leave Chicago—not my job, and not her. And I don’t feel good here. I don’t feel wanted. I don’t feel like myself, and if I stay in this space any longer, I know I’ll lose all the hard work I’ve put into making myself mentally healthier. I can’t go back, Ryot. I won’t.”
And I don’t want her to go back to that dark headspace either. I know how hard she’s worked to be happy, to find what works for her. What a fuckup I am for not considering that.
Fuck.
I rub my hand across my forehead as I stare at her, the one single human I’ve ever truly loved to my core. How could I just let her go without a fight? Without trying to fix things?
Because, I caused them.
It’s hard to realize as a wife that you come second, that your opinion doesn’t matter, that you will and can be forgotten. I never had a say, and I hate that I married into that same situation.
I think the answer is clear.
I canonlylet her go because I love her, which means I want better for her.
And even though it’s painful, I don’t think that’s me.
That sensation of being so...abandoned is what I’ve been feeling for months. With you.
I hate that I have caused her to feel so alone and abandoned. There’s only one way I can fix that, it seems.
“Okay,” I say.
Confused, she asks, “Okay, what?”
But I don’t answer her. Instead, I go up to my room and retrieve the divorce papers from my nightstand. I pick up the pen, and with a tight throat and a broken heart, I sign my name.
I take the papers back down to her bedroom, where she’s now sitting on her bed, looking confused.
“Here.” I hand her the papers. “I want you to be happy, Myla, and I should have realized that earlier before putting my feelings ahead of yours and making us go through these three weeks of hell. It’s done no good, and I want you to know there are no hard feelings. I know what I’ve done, I know the damage I’ve created, and I just hope . . .” My voice catches in my throat as my eyes start to water. “I just hope that one day, when you’ve created the life you deserve, and that beautiful smile has returned to your face, you can forgive me.”
