Dad was taking the girls to the park and asked me to pack their bags for a day out. He knew I needed to be alone, I doubt he knows the reason why but he offered and I was only to willing to sob alone in one bedroom apartment for a few hours. As I zipped up the Moana lunchbox, my fingers dragged it along the edge and the sound pierced through me. Everything was too much right now. Too bright, too loud, too heavy.
"I love you," I said with a kiss to my oldest daughter. She looked up at me, a copy and paste of her mother.
"Everything will be okay, Dad." She whispered. My heart shattered, I was hoping she was oblivious to the chaos in our life right now.
"It already is." I reply. Her big brown eyes sparkle with hope for a moment and I pray silently that I can fix this still. Jeremiah is her favorite uncle, he's everyone's favorite- even Belly's.
You saw this coming.
The door shuts behind them and without a moment to spare, warm tears start to pour out of my eyes. I drop to my knees, wiping the salty drops from my face. If I could go back, I would have let him have her- I wouldn't want this. To have two perfect girls, who have no idea their mom is acting this way or why they're couped up in their grand father's tiny apartment instead of spending the summer in the family home.
"How do I keep going?" I cry out, looking up at the ceiling. My skin feels like it's not my own, I want to rip my clothes off and pull every hair from my head. The ache in my stomach is worse than the day my mother died, this feels like something I was responsible for and yet I can't figure out how I ended up here.
"WHY?" I scream into empty space and my voice echoed through the apartment, into the void. The white walls and grey furniture felt like an asylum, trapping me in this misery. I laid out on the floor, flat on my back and sobbed more. It wasn't really a question of how, I knew how this happened. She'd always been on the edge of the fence between him and I. But I thought after our second child she'd be locked in, finally settled down. I'd hoped that after years of marriage, struggles and good times she'd have found herself content.
My chest heaved with every sob, my vision blurred by the tears rushing down the corners of my eyes into my hair. The feeling was disgusting, my life felt disgusting.
Sure, I'd stolen Belly from him once before... But this was different, could he not see the difference now? She is my wife, the mother to his nieces and the woman I'd devoted my whole life to. Could he not see how selfish he was?
Did he truly only care about himself?
