20. Sasha

20

SASHA

I walk toward the bookstore, every step heavier than the last. My heart feels like it’s caught in a vise, the pressure building with every block. I can see the familiar storefront ahead, but the thought of going inside makes my stomach twist. I don’t know if I have the right words for Evie. How do I explain why I hid something so big, why I kept my past locked away like some shameful secret?

The truth is, I’ve been running for so long I’m not sure I know how to stop.

As I get closer, the memories creep in, memories I’ve been trying to push down for years. They hit me all at once, images of the day I left Gareth. The moment everything fell apart.

I hadn’t planned on leaving that night. It just...happened.

I’d been standing in the hallway of our house, my fingers wrapped around the handle of a suitcase I’d barely packed. My heart was racing, the weight of everything pressing down on me, making it hard to breathe. Gareth was in the other room, sitting in front of the TV like nothing was wrong, like our life wasn’t crumbling around us.

“I can’t do this anymore,” I had whispered to myself, my voice trembling.

But the truth was, I’d been saying that for months, over and over in my head, trapped in a life that never felt like mine. The marriage, the house, the expectations—it was all something I’d been pushed into. I never wanted to marry Gareth. I never wanted to be someone’s perfect wife, but I said yes because it was easier than saying no, easier than fighting the inevitable. His family, my family, the pressure—it all wrapped around me, pulling me into a role I never asked for.

I remember standing in the doorway of the living room, watching him, trying to find the words. My mouth was dry, and my hands were shaking as I gripped the suitcase tighter.

“Gareth,” I said, my voice breaking the silence.

He didn’t look up from the TV, just gave a dismissive grunt. “What is it, Sasha?”

I took a deep breath, feeling the tightness in my chest, the fear and the guilt swirling together. “I’m leaving.”

That got his attention. He turned slowly, his eyes narrowing in confusion. “What do you mean, leaving?”

“I mean I can’t stay here anymore,” I said, my voice stronger than I felt. “I can’t keep pretending this is what I want.”

His expression darkened, the confusion replaced with a hard, cold anger. He stood up, crossing the room toward me, his presence filling the space like a storm cloud. “You’re not making any sense. We’re married, Sasha. This is your life. You don’t just walk out because things get tough.”

“I didn’t want this,” I shot back, my voice shaking now. “I never wanted this. You pushed me into it. Your family, mine—they decided everything for me. But I can’t keep living like this. I’m suffocating.”

Gareth’s jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “We made a commitment. You can’t just leave because you’re feeling trapped. That’s not how this works.”

Tears burned at the corners of my eyes, but I forced them back, refusing to let him see how scared I was. “You don’t understand. I’ve been trapped since the day I said yes. This marriage—it’s not real. It’s just... it’s just something we did because it was expected.”

He stared at me for a long moment, his eyes hard and unyielding. “So, what? You’re just going to run away? You think that’s going to fix everything?”

I didn’t have an answer. All I knew was that staying was slowly killing me. Every day in that house, every moment in that life that wasn’t mine—it was too much. I wasn’t Sasha anymore. I was someone else, someone who lived for other people, for their expectations and their plans. And I couldn’t do it anymore.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice breaking as the guilt finally hit me. “I’m sorry for the way I’m doing this, but I have to go.”

He didn’t say anything, just stood there, staring at me with a mixture of anger and disbelief. And in that moment, I felt the weight of it all—the guilt, the fear, the shame of leaving without a proper goodbye. But I couldn’t stay. Staying would’ve meant losing myself completely.

I turned, pulling the door open, and as I stepped outside into the cool night air, I felt the tears finally spill over. I didn’t look back. I couldn’t. I just kept walking, leaving everything behind—the house, the marriage, the person I had been pretending to be.

Now, as I stand outside the bookstore, the memory feels like a fresh wound, raw and aching. I left Gareth because I had to. I didn’t know how else to save myself. But I never told Evie about that part of my life, and now it’s come back to haunt me. And the worst part is, I can’t even say I regret leaving. I regret how I left, but not the leaving itself. It was the only way I knew how to breathe again.

But Evie deserves more than that. She deserves the truth, all of it, no matter how much it hurts.

I push open the door to the bookstore, the bell above the door ringing softly. The familiar scent of books and coffee hits me, but it doesn’t bring the comfort it usually does. Instead, it feels heavy, like a reminder of everything that’s at stake.

Evie’s sitting at a small table near the back, surrounded by books and papers, her back to the door. For a moment, I just watch her, my heart pounding. She looks tired, like she hasn’t slept, and I know that’s my fault. I did this to her. I kept the truth from her, and now she’s paying the price.

I take a deep breath and step forward, my voice barely above a whisper. “Evie?”

She freezes, her shoulders tensing, and slowly turns to face me. Her eyes are red, like she’s been crying, and the sight of it breaks something inside me.

“Sasha,” she says, her voice flat, emotionless. “What are you doing here?”

“I...I need to talk to you,” I say, my voice trembling. “I need to explain.”

She doesn’t say anything, just watches me, waiting. The silence between us feels like a chasm, wide and impossible to cross. But I have to try.

“I’m sorry,” I start, the words falling out in a rush. “I should’ve told you about Gareth. I should’ve been honest with you from the beginning. But I was scared. I was scared of losing you, scared that if you knew about my past, you wouldn’t want me anymore.”

Evie’s expression doesn’t change. She just listens, her eyes hard, unreadable.

“I left him,” I continue, my voice shaking. “I left because I couldn’t breathe in that life. I never wanted to marry him, but I felt like I didn’t have a choice. Our families...they pushed me into it, and I was too weak to fight back. But it wasn’t real. None of it was real.”

Evie’s eyes flicker, but she doesn’t say anything.

“I’m not asking for your forgiveness,” I say, my voice cracking. “I know I messed up. I should’ve told you the truth, but I didn’t know how. And now...now I’m terrified that I’ve ruined everything.”

I look at her, desperate for some kind of response, some sign that she understands. But she just sits there staring at me, her expression unreadable.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she finally asks, her voice quiet but sharp, like a knife slicing through the air. “Why did you keep something like that from me?”

“Because I didn’t want you to look at me differently,” I whisper, my throat tight with emotion. “I didn’t want you to see me as someone with baggage, someone who’s broken. I wanted to be the person you deserved, and I thought that if I told you about Gareth, it would ruin everything.”

Evie’s lips press into a thin line, and she shakes her head slowly. “You think this is about me seeing you as broken? It’s about trust, Sasha. How am I supposed to trust you if you keep hiding things from me?”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, and I feel tears prick at my eyes. “I know,” I whisper. “I know I broke your trust, and I hate myself for it. But I’m here now, telling you everything because I can’t keep running from this. I don’t want to run anymore.”

She doesn’t respond right away, and the silence stretches between us, heavy and suffocating.

“I need time,” she finally says, her voice tight with emotion. “I need time to figure out if I can forgive this. Because right now, I don’t know.”

The words are like a knife in my chest, but I nod, swallowing back the tears. “I understand. Take all the time you need.”

I stand in the bookstore, the silence stretching between us like an unspoken question. I’ve said everything I could, laid it all out in front of her. There’s no going back now. The words are out there, hanging in the air, and I can’t take them back. I wouldn’t, even if I could. For once, I’ve stopped running. I’ve stopped hiding.

But I can’t shake the sinking feeling in my stomach. I’ve hurt her. That much is clear from the way she looks at me; her eyes are full of hurt and confusion, and I know I’m the cause of that. Part of me wants to beg her to forgive me, to promise that I’ll never lie again, that I’ll do anything to fix this. But I don’t. I can’t.

I can’t control what happens next.

“Evie,” I say quietly, my voice breaking the stillness. She looks up at me, her expression unreadable, and my heart aches. “I’m not going to run from this anymore. I’ll be here when you’re ready—if you’re ready. I just need you to know that no matter what happens, I’m grateful for the time we’ve had together. Even if it’s over.”

The words are harder to say than I thought they’d be. Admitting that I might lose her feels like ripping out a piece of myself, but I can’t keep holding onto something I don’t have control over. I can’t make her forgive me. All I can do is give her the space to decide for herself.

Evie watches me, her lips pressing into a thin line, and for a moment, I wonder if she’ll say something, anything. But she stays quiet, and I understand. She needs time to process all of this. I can’t push her.

So, I take a deep breath, giving her one last look, trying to hold onto the memory of what we’ve shared, just in case this is the end.

“I’ll go,” I say softly. “But if you ever want to talk, I’ll be here.”

With that, I turn and walk toward the door, my heart heavy with the weight of everything unsaid. My hand hovers over the doorknob for a second, but I don’t look back. I can’t. I open the door, stepping out into the cold evening air, feeling the finality of the moment settle over me.

I’ve done all I can. The rest is up to her.

The cold hits me as soon as I step outside, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the bookstore. I pull my coat tighter around me, my breath fogging in the air as I walk down the street, my feet moving without direction. The city around me feels distant, like I’m watching it from the outside, disconnected from the noise and the bustle. Everything is muffled, like I’m trapped in my own world, my thoughts louder than anything else.

I don’t know what I expected. I poured my heart out to Evie, told her everything, but now I’m left with nothing but uncertainty. I don’t know if she’ll ever forgive me, and the thought of losing her—of losing what we’ve built together—it feels like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting to see if I’ll fall.

But for the first time in a long time, I’m not hiding. I’m not running. I told her the truth, and that should bring me some sense of relief. And in a way, it does. I’m not carrying the weight of my secret anymore. The truth is out there, and it’s no longer gnawing at me from the inside. But the relief is mixed with a deep, gnawing fear. I know that the truth doesn’t fix everything. It doesn’t erase the hurt I’ve caused.

I stop in front of a small park, the trees bare and the grass frosted over. The benches are empty, and the quietness of the scene pulls me in. I sit down, my legs suddenly feeling heavy, like the exhaustion of everything is finally catching up to me.

The memories of the past few weeks with Evie flood my mind. The way she smiled at me that first night at the poetry reading, the sound of her laugh, the way she looked at me like I was something good, something worth holding onto. And now I’ve shattered that trust, that connection.

I close my eyes, leaning back against the bench, trying to push back the tears that threaten to spill over. I didn’t want it to end like this. I didn’t want to hurt her, but I did. I know that I can’t undo what I’ve done, but I hope, deep down, that maybe she can still see the good in us. That maybe she can find it in her heart to forgive me.

But the uncertainty of it all—it’s crushing. I’ve never been good at waiting, at sitting with the unknown. I’ve always been the one to make decisions, to act before thinking. But now, all I can do is wait. And it’s terrifying.

I take a deep breath, letting the cold air fill my lungs, trying to calm the storm in my mind. The city lights flicker in the distance as cars pass by, life moving forward around me. But I’m stuck here, frozen in this moment, waiting to see if Evie will catch me or let me fall.

I think about going back to my apartment, but the idea of sitting there alone feels suffocating. So, I keep walking, my feet carrying me through the familiar streets of the city, my thoughts drifting back to Evie with every step. I wonder what she’s thinking right now. I wonder if she’s still sitting in the bookstore, replaying everything I said, trying to make sense of it all.

I wish I could take it all back—the lies, the secrets—but I can’t. All I can do is hope that what we had before Gareth showed up is still strong enough to survive this.

I walk for hours, the city blurring around me, my mind racing with all the possibilities of what could come next. Maybe Evie will forgive me, and we’ll find a way to move forward. Or maybe this is the end. Maybe I’ve lost her for good.

The uncertainty sits heavy in my chest, but I know I’ve done all I can. The rest is out of my hands.

As the night wears on, I find myself standing across the street from the bookstore, looking at the warm glow of the lights through the window. Evie’s still inside, sitting at the table where we spent so many evenings together. I watch her for a moment, my heart aching with the weight of everything that’s happened between us.

I don’t go inside. I can’t. Not yet.

So I turn and walk away, the cold air biting at my skin, the uncertainty of what comes next hanging over me like a shadow.

And for the first time in a long time, I let go of the control I’ve been holding onto so tightly.