Chapter Twenty-Two
Mia
Logan: If you do decide to write your angryletter, don’t hold back. Get it all out.
Mia: Okay. Thanks.
I’d been staring at the laptop for over an hour since Logan messaged me, trying to decide if I was ready for this. Who knew if it was really going to help? It could honestly just spiral me down into the darkness of my mind again, forcing me to feel everything. I hadn’t felt anything before though, so maybe I wouldn’t feel anything this time either.
Except even I knew that thought was a lie.
“Okay, Mia. Just get it out. Visualize.”
I closed my eyes and thought of Wallace. Dark hair, brown eyes, that Roman nose, and high cheekbones. He was wearing his normal Armani suit—black, of course. So many emotions rose from the depths that I didn’t really have a choice but to start typing them out. Directing my hate and anger and pain at him. Memories and thoughts were flashing through my mind all at once.
Dear Wallace,
I don’t know what kind of letter/story this will be. A painful and hurtful one?
I wish I could say it’s issues with my ex-mother-in-law or Hollis, but truthfully, it was a lot closer than them. I can forgive so many people who had wronged me. I can move on from their hurt. But your hurt was too deep.
I’ve been hurting so much lately on the inside. For years now. I have my good days and my bad. Joy and sadness. But, no matter how many times I try to bounce back and just move on, I haven’t been able to truly let go.
But, God, I want to. I want to be better to myself, to my family. To everything.
Wallace, you were all that consumed me. In many good ways, but the bad started to take over, and I was feeling lost.
We were together for six years. Six. That’s a long time. We went through so many things together. We’d started young, and we grew. But I’m not sure we grew together. Our wants, our desires, our ways of thinking changed.
Then, one day, you left your e-mail open. It wasn’t even me snooping. We’d been together for almost two years. We’d moved in together, and shortly after, we had gotten engaged.
You’d told Miranda, one of your clients, that she was hot as hell and something else that escapes me now. When I asked you about the e-mail, you denied saying it and then went to delete it. A guilty person’s actions in my opinion.
Then, you messaged her. You said you were sick and that she should come be your little nurse. To which she replied,Don’t you have a girlfriend?And you replied,It’s not like we’re married or anything.
I can’t begin to tell you how much that hurt me. I wanted marriage. I wanted to take on the world with you, but you were hesitant.
Right then, I decided I wasn’t going to say anything. That, if you cheated, it wouldn’t be because of me. It would be you. I’d done everything I could.
I thought I’d moved on. But, really, all I had done was put it in a closet in my mind. Ignoring it.
But I can’t anymore.
I don’t think I ever stopped thinking that you could do that to me. Mentally, emotionally, or physically have an affair. You joked about it all the time—that I would never know. And I can’t express how much of a fear that was to me.
Turned out, that fear was accurate. I’ve never been able to get the images of you and Hollis out of my head. Then, seeing you and her with a baby on the way hit me so hard. That was supposed to be us. The happy couple excited about our bundle of joy. You ripped that from me when you shoved your pathetic dick inside another woman. God, I bet there were others I don’t even know about, or maybe I just ignored the signs, like the e-mails with Miranda.
Hope you like Hollis’s pregnant body more than you did mine. I’d have hated to be with you, pregnant and insecure, with you muttering comments about how fat my ankles were. You were disgusted by my body. Weren’t attracted to me for over a year. I was either too heavy or skinny. My boobs weren’t big enough for you. My hips were wide, and when I gained that weight, you would make such a face of disgust when I got naked in front of you. Then, I stopped caring. Did what I wanted. But these problems, I never moved on from them. I tried so hard to. Truly. I wanted to push everything away, so we could keep going, but I never dealt with it.
It sucked. I felt used and unwanted.
Then, your anger got worse. You threatened to knock me the fuck out. You overreacted over silly things, like tea bags and other stupid things. You threatened to leave me in the ocean to deal with my fear. You were never there for me like a husband was supposed to be.
I paused, wiping the tears that began to brim my eyelids. The memories were flooding my mind now, and so was the hurt. I remembered each of these times that I hadn’t realized I’d been holding on to so tightly. There was so much to say, to feel. I was afraid of what more was going to come out of me. But I put my unsure fingers back on the keys and continued on.
And you still never understood me—my needs, my desires, who I was as a person.
I asked you to hug me every day. I would have even settled for every other day of your own free will, and you couldn’t do that. What does that say about you? About me that I accepted that?
