I Finally Chose Myself
His chin trembled.
“Where am I supposed to go?” he whispered.
I laughed once, sharp.
“That’s what I had to figure out at seventeen,” I said. “I’m sure you’ll manage.”
“Don’t do this,” he begged. “We have a life. A child.”
I looked at him, truly looked.
“I had a right to know who I was choosing,” I said. “You stole that from me. Everything after grew from that lie.”
I went to our bedroom and pulled out a suitcase.
This time, I wasn’t a scared teenager.
I packed for myself and our son.
Clothes. Important papers. His favorite stuffed dinosaur.
When I came back out, my husband looked wrecked.
My mother was silent, tears on her face.
I set the suitcase by the door.
“I loved you,” I told him. “More than was healthy. I gave up my family, my future, my education.”
My voice shook just once.
“I never regretted it… because I thought you were honest with me.”
“I love you,” he choked.
I nodded, like I’d already buried something.
“Love without truth is nothing.”
I walked out.
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