I've dreamed of the perfect marriage ever since I was a little girl: a marriage complete with a hardworking husband while I tended to the home and our children, preferably four little rugrats to call my own. I dreamed of a life filled with laughter...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
They say hindsight is twenty-twenty. I say it's a right kick in the balls, a lesson Ramsley so eloquently demonstrated over a week ago.
I blow out a breath as I think about everything that happened and, what's starting to be a permanent fixture in my life, a sinking feeling so overwhelmingly heavy.
"He gave and gave and gave while everyone just took and took and took, and now that's what he's become. Unwanted. Angry. Bitter. He doesn't want to be touched. He doesn't want to be fixed. He just wants to be left alone."
Those words have been on constant repeat in my head since walking away from Huck and our conversation a week ago. Not once in our marriage did I ever think Lottie felt that way while under our roof. I thought she was satisfied. She always seemed to smile and be content. She never cried. In hindsight, I thought it was because she was happy with our arrangement. In the present, I realize that wasn't the case at all. Rather, she was hiding her truth so I could live my lie, a well-controlled lie.
How did I miss so much?
That was the question I spent the rest of the day thinking about. I didn't attend dinner. Between the burning in my groin and the anxiety in my head, I couldn't stomach anything anyway. So, instead, I spent the night on my bed, mindlessly staring at the ceiling and thinking about my marriage. Although there were many memories to dig through, I kept going back to one, a moment so brief but so profound that it shaped the entirety of the four years to follow: the first time I saw Lottie.
She was so beautiful with her innocent smile and bright brown eyes. She sat in her father's office with the sun shining on her. At that moment, my heart, a heart that I had considered to be good and dead, started to beat again. It was as if her smile had somehow burrowed in my chest like a little groundhog and had lit me up from the inside. I knew I wouldn't be walking away from her father's agreement, but I also knew I needed to put in place precautions and deal with the dangerous feelings that Lottie ignited in me. At the end of the day, this was an arranged marriage, one that Lottie had agreed to, so I stomped that feeling down and tucked it away in the attic of my heart.
Many times, throughout our marriage, that same feeling would pop up. I felt it on our wedding day when Lottie walked down the aisle in the obnoxious wedding gown. At the time, I felt the dress didn't quite fit her personality. But, I pushed that thought down because I'd only just met her. I felt it the first time we made love while Lottie's head rested delicately on my chest. But, I reminded myself she was only doing what was expected of her. So, again, I stomped it down. I felt it more recently the night of the gala when Lottie removed her cream coat, revealing a burgundy gown that fit her like a fantasy. She looked stunning. But, I reminded myself this wasn't a real marriage and Lottie could leave at any moment on her own accord, taking my heart with her if I ever gave it to her. So, again, I stomped it down.
Like a carousel, the cycle repeated until it finally came to a disastrous halt the day Lottie overheard me confess my feelings to another woman, a confession I'm still not sure why I made. Don't get me wrong, I loved Abigail growing up. I wanted nothing more than to save her from the life our parents had planned for us. Even when she married, the need to protect her never left. At least, until recently when I discovered she never needed saving. She's perfectly happy living in a world full of people wearing masks.
