The first light of dawn crept through the curtains, casting a soft glow on my tear-streaked face. My eyes opened slowly, the events of the night before coming back in a rush. The pain, the betrayal, the shattered dreams, it all hit you anew.
I rose up slowly and walked to the mirror to stare at my ugly self that couldn't be loved, I saw every imperfection, every flaw that i thought he'd loved, but clearly didn't. My eyes were puffy and red from crying, my hair disheveled, and my face expressionless.
My thoughts were soon interrupted by knocks and I smiled thanking God that he might have actually come back to his senses.Hastily straightening my clothes and wiping my tears, i rushed to open the door.
"We need to talk."
He said, his tone firm and businesslike.
I stared back at him, the hope and optimism I felt just moments ago draining away. I nodded slowly, gestured for him to come in, and braced myself for whatever was about to come.
He walked into the room, his footsteps heavy on the hardwood floors.
"Sit. We need to discuss this rationally."
He said.
Rationally. As if ending a marriage and shattering someone's life was a simple, logical decision that could be made without emotions getting in the way.
"I want to make this divorce as smooth as possible."
He said, skipping any pretense of formality.
The words "divorce" stung. They felt too final, too real. I tried hard to keep my emotion in check, but it was a losing battle.
"You want to make this divorce as smooth as possible" is that what you just said?…. Derek, I got pregnant with your child at 18 and you said i should get it aborted and I did, I said I could hear my voice croak in pain.
"You got me pregnant again and you said i should get it out and I did… my womb got injured at some point and now, I can't give birth…. I did this all for you and you say this?!!".
His expression shifted for a moment, an almost imperceptible flicker of guilt crossing his face. But it was gone just as quickly, replaced by that same, detached expression.
"I never forced you to do those things,"
He said, his tone still maddeningly calm.
"You made your own choices. I just shared my opinions."
My blood boiled at his words. Had he just conveniently blocked out the countless conversations we had, the tears I had to shed, the emotional blackmail he had used to get me to agree to the abortion?
"Shared your opinion?"
I nearly spat out the words.
"You pressured me into it! You made me believe I had no choice."
He sighed, as if i were simply overreacting, being unreasonable.
"You're making it sound like I forced you do anything. You agreed,"
He said, his tone almost condescending.
My hands clenched into fists, anger and hurt fighting for control.
"I agreed because I loved you! I trusted you! I thought you wanted us to be happy!"
My voice cracked, the pain and frustration of the years suddenly came back to me.
He looked at me with a mixture of annoyance and pity. As if i were a child throwing a tantrum.
"This is what I mean. You're too emotional," he said, his tone still infuriatingly calm. "You can't have a logical, rational conversation without getting emotional."
"Emotional?!! I am emotional?… for loving you, for venting out my pain and for getting cheated on… you call this emotional".
He rolled his eyes at me,
"Yes, it's emotional," he replied, his tone growing sharper now. "You're being over-dramatic. You need to think about this clearly, without letting your emotions get in the way."
His words only fueled my anger. Over-dramatic? How could he reduce my pain to mere melodrama?
"You don't get to decide what's emotional and what's not!"
"I'm allowed to feel pain, I'm allowed to be angry and hurt!".
He leaned back against the couch, his expression growing impatient.
"And what did that get you?"
He asked, his voice tinged with a hint of cruelty. "A broken marriage and a divorce? Was loving me so fiercely worth it?"
His words hit me like a slap in the face. Did he just throw my love back at me, reducing it to a mere casualty in the mess of our marriage? My eyes welled up with tears again, the pain too raw to bear.
"How can you say that? After everything I did for you?" I whispered, voice shaking.
"Derek Aberdeen, I hate you". I said and rushed out of the house running into the oblivion.