She thought it would be more painful than this. She thought that when he walked out of the door she would either feel excruciating pain or a great rush of relief.
She felt neither.
What does this mean? Was she dead inside? That’s kind of what it felt like. Her mind raced over what was happening, but emotionally… she felt nothing.
She had gone through this too many times. She had been hurt too many times. The wounds had calloused over, and now, she was left with rough, sharp edges.
Was she choosing herself? Was she choosing not to feel? Were either healthy? She didn’t know. She didn’t even know if she would be back in the same position again. She always intended to remain strong, but one puppy-eyed look from him would send her back to support and comfort.
How long could she keep this up? It was draining. Physically and emotionally. But she felt nothing. Maybe that meant this was right. Maybe she’d soon figure out this was a right ‘choice’.
She didn’t have a choice. He left his set of keys to her apartment and was a little too excited to walk out the door. He won. He got what he wanted.
He was free.
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