Ümmühan
@_ummu
When we kissed, it felt like the first time—but so much better. I sank into her, forgetting everything beyond us and this rusty car. We weren’t married for the wrong reasons. We weren’t faking it to get anyone off my back. And we weren’t giving life to my teenage pining. This moment had nothing to do with the kids we’d once been. This was real and true, and if I worked hard enough, I could ignore all the filthy, base urges blaring from the lizard portion of my brain. The ones I hadn’t been able to repress since that night in the pantry.
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“I love your hair like this.”
“Short? Or slightly pink?”
“Both,” he said, gathering me in a tight embrace. “It’s like you’ve finally stopped caring what everyone thinks and let yourself be whatever you want.”
She deserved everything, even if I couldn’t be the one to give it to her.
And that was okay. I could live with that. I could shove the truth aside one more time, a thousand more times, if it meant she had what she needed. A birthday party, a ride home, a husband in name only. We were here now, we were in this, and it didn’t matter whether I’d vowed to save myself from falling down the same old hole for Shay Zucconi again. I had to accept that those fantasies of her running into my arms—and falling apart in my bed—were fully unattainable.
“Yes. He did that to you and it was awful. But when he left, he took himself away. He took a lot of important things but he didn’t take you. He didn’t take the best of you. I believe you’re more ready than you think,” Jaime said gently.
“I’m not sure,” I whispered.
“You will be,” she said. “Eventually.”