Chapter Eight #3
Oberi whimpered lowly, and Charlie said, “Oberi doesn’t want us to. But he’s not in this marriage, and it’s up to us to decide what we want. We’re not making any progress on fixing anything. We’ve barely talked all month unless it’s to scream at each other. That’s making the gap between us bigger.”
“I agree.” I didn’t see how this marriage could be saved. Not even a miracle could mend what we’d ruined.
“There has to be some way,” Charlie said. “Maybe we can’t restore our bond, but we could get our marriage back. Slowly, until we’ve worked our way back to how things should be.”
“I don’t know if I want that, Charlie. It’s not possible to go back to what we had with the knowledge we have now. We’re never going to be those people again, and you can’t keep trying to drag me into a past that’s already gone.”
“But can we grow something new? If we can’t go back, we could try starting over.”
“You heard what your grandfather said when he taught you about bond breaking,” I whispered, feeling frail.
“Once separated, two pieces of a bond have to live apart. There is no in-between. Our bond is already broken, and there’s no mending it.
We don’t have a chance of living together anymore, so we need to separate.
Otherwise, we’ll just end up hurting each other. ”
“I don’t want to get divorced if there’s a chance we can fix—”
“I tried to cheat on you.”
My words fell like bombs, striking the room without creating a single crater. They leveled Charlie, caving him inward in a way that displayed clearly on the outside. He stood utterly still, going pale. He looked like he didn’t truly believe me… or at least, didn’t want to.
But what I’d said was real. He needed to understand how serious this was. He didn’t realize the gravity of the canyon between us, and how unfathomable it was to cross. He couldn’t keep trying to repair what was broken off dreams alone. He had to give me more.
Charlie sucked in a quivering breath. “Did you?”
“No. I couldn’t go through with it. I couldn’t even manage to kiss the guy.” I was ashamed to admit it, but I was sickeningly remorseful for keeping this from him. He deserved to know, even if that night had resulted in nothing but more misery on my end.
Charlie shrugged miserably. “I guess if it would’ve happened, I would’ve given you a pass anyway. It’s not like it can compare to what I did.”
His words appalled me. “No, Charlie. No matter what you’ve done, you don’t deserve that.”
A skeptical noise escaped his mouth. “Could’ve fooled me.”
“I thought if I… you know, slept with someone else, you would sign the papers and go away. So I went to a bar, and met a guy—”
“I don’t want any details.” He cut me off quickly. “My mind doesn’t need to go there. It didn’t happen, so that’s all that matters.”
His admission struck me into shock. I struggled to find my next words. “How can you just… forgive me so easily after what I confessed?”
“I don’t know. There’s nothing you can do that will make me stop loving you, Ava. Not even if you did that.”
His genuine affection, ringing with so much kindness, grace, and yes, even love… rendered me incapable. Of thought, breath, everything.
He held the papers in my direction. “I’ll sign these right now if you ask me to. Promise.”
I stared. “I… I don’t know.”
“Ava, you can’t keep doing this,” he pleaded. “This back and forth is torturous. I’d rather go back to Cellblock 9 than keep living this way. Please, make up your mind. Because until you do, I can’t make up mine.”
His words ached with indecision and pain. He’d thought about signing the papers, too, and considered being done with me. Done with us.
I didn’t know if he could. Or if I could. I wanted this to be our choice, but there was a small part of me that was terrified as it was hopeful that no matter how far we tried to run from each other, there’d always be something pulling us back.
To what, though? Everything was destroyed.
My chair squeaked as I moved to my right side instead of my left. “I think… it’s just… oh, I don’t—”
“You need to take a bath.” He cut me off, words short and sharp.
“What?” I was completely thrown off. What was he talking about?
“You’ve shifted in your chair fifteen times since we started this conversation. I’ve been counting. It’s distracting, and you're clearly uncomfortable.”
I blinked. “You're paying attention to that when I’m admitting that I tried to commit infidelity.”
“I can’t help it. It’s instinctive now.” His eyebrows furrowed. “You haven’t been taking care of yourself, have you?”
“Well no, obviously.” My answer came out kind of bitchy, but I couldn’t help it.
Charlie hadn’t just been my husband— he’d also been my caregiver.
He’d helped me do so many things I struggled to do on my own— bathe, dress, get around.
My exercises had basically fallen by the wayside since we’d split, and my mobility had been significantly reduced.
I was stiffer and more sore than ever. Charlie caught on to when I was about to have a flare up before I did. He was that in-tune with me.
Losing his help over the past few weeks had impacted my life severely.
Even with the help of palace servants, it couldn’t replace the amount of care Charlie put into me.
Nobody knew me like he did. Without him pushing me to care for my disability, I put off a lot of the things I was supposed to be doing to make me feel better instead of worse.
I turned my chair toward the door. “You’re right. I’m sorry, I should probably get going. It’s terrible to talk about this on Christmas, anyway. We can resume this conversation later.”
“You’re not going to make it all the way back to the Ladies’ Court without your muscles seizing up. If you try, you won’t be able to move at all. Just use the tub in the bathroom.”
I wanted to tell him hell no— absolutely not. I had no interest in taking a bath in our former home after another painful conversation, with him waiting outside.
But he seemed pretty desperate, and now that he had pointed it out, I really was suffering.
My spine was on fire. Every fiber of the muscles in my back were being sawed apart.
I’d been ignoring it for days, putting my physical pain in a box and stuffing it down so I could manage my emotional upheaval, but if I kept pushing, my next flare up would lead me straight to the hospital.
I didn’t have the heart to argue after I’d just told him I tried to sleep with another man. So I caved. “Fine. A quick bath, then I’ll go.”
He was already walking into the bathroom to start the water. The bathroom was steaming when I entered, and he quietly exited once the tub was full, shutting the door behind him without another word.
I could get myself inside the tub now— it wasn’t what I preferred, but I sure as fuck didn’t want Charlie trying to help me in anymore. I undressed, then carefully moved myself from my chair to the tub, sinking down into the water.
It was the perfect temperature, and was filled with bubbles from the sandalwood soap I loved so much. He knew exactly how I liked my bath. So many of these routines were already established between us, because we knew each other so well.
I sat in the tub for a long time and let the water go cold, staring at nothing but the ceiling tile until I went numb. Everything inevitably hit me when I recalled the stricken look on Charlie’s face when I told him I’d tried to choose someone else over him.
I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t stay, I couldn’t go. I couldn’t do anything but wait to die. That’s when the numbness vanished, the agony returned, and I sank down into the water and cried.
Everything had collapsed. I felt like dying, but for some useless reason, I was still here. Unable to decide what I wanted, unable to perceive a future with Charlie in it, and unable to see what my life would look like without him.
All I wanted to do was disappear. Why wouldn’t the world let me?
The door creaked open. I sniffed, hastily stopping my tears. I didn’t realize how loud I was being. I’d tried to be quiet, but he could probably hear my sobs from outside the door.
Charlie had his hands in his pockets, leaning against the doorframe. He said nothing, just waited, trying to decide… something.
This man confused me to no end. I was exhausted from dealing with him. I wanted him to leave me alone so I could drown in my sorrows and wait to suffocate.
“Do you…” He cleared his throat, voice hoarse. “What do you need from me?”
I didn’t respond, because what I recklessly desired, what I wanted to beg and plead for, would be cruel to say.
I hated him. I hated how much I wanted him to give me everything I craved. I needed him to love me as badly as I wanted him to walk away, and I was caught in the space in between.
I was tired, and really depressed, and honestly, I just wanted sex. I’d take feeling anything over feeling like this, and using my body for an escape was the easiest way.
But I remained silent, daring him to keep trying— to show me he would keep fighting for me, even when a part of me whispered that he needed to lay down his sword and give up the battle.
I couldn't tell him to go away. If this was truly the end of our marriage, I wanted to get one last round of pleasure in before the end. What could it hurt? We were already broken beyond repair. There was nothing more we could say to each other. Both of us were terrified of whatever was coming next, because we wouldn’t have anything once this love story between us inevitably ended.
There was no future for him and me, we both knew that. We couldn’t forgive.
But we could live in a fantasy, just for tonight. We could act like none of this was happening, lie to each other, refuse to be honest and act like this was going somewhere. Be less than spouses, more than friends.
I was never going to love another man anyway. Not after him. He was the only one for me, and always would he.