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--So... when did everything start?

Way too long ago. I look at the journalist, ignoring the hint of distaste she tries to hide- they always feel it, but they never succeed at hiding it. Amateurs, really. Of course, I don't say anything, why should I? I'm about to ruin my name, anyway.

"July 23rd," I take a little pause, I was always prone to be dramatic. "Thirty-four years ago."

(Barbie's POV)

It was supposed to be one of the happiest days of my life, my friends were about to get married, after all. And it was one of the happiest, until one single sentence brought my entire life off-track.

Carrie texted me, and I freaked. She only told me it was an emergency, I thought all hell was about to break loose. I'd barely told Ken I was leaving before I was out the house, shoe-laces untied and everything. I was ready to be met with the news ranging from a really bad break-up, to someone's death. I probably didn't respect the speeding limit too much, either. But that was the least of my problems.

It took me fifteen minutes less to get to Carrie's than usually, which was a lot, considering the relatively small distance- even she was shocked when I suddenly stood in front of her. I took a glance into the living room while I took off my shoes and say Taylor sitting on the couch. Not a break-up. I audibly breathed up when I saw how ridiculously happy she looked, a giddy smile adorned on her face, bright eyes to match it.. I froze when the pieces finally fit together. 

"No way," I murmured practically dozens of times before my eyes snapped back to Carrie who couldn't hide it anymore either. "You're kidding." Carrie showed my her hand, her fingers shaking and a big diamond staring back at me. The next morning, I tried to remember what happened next, but all I remembered was tons of screeching and hugs.

And some champagne.

That made it even hazier, if we're being honest.

I vividly remembered the evening to follow, though. Carrie and Taylor didn't take long to dress up and lend me a dress with matching shoes, it took even less time to get to the club. We had to celebrate, of course. We'd called Ken while getting ready, telling him the amazing news- and that he shouldn't expect me home.

Not very poetic, but as I said, I didn't even remember everything the day after.

In a way I knew something was about to go very wrong. I think.. I just had that awful feeling of dread that I couldn't shake with all the smiles in the world. I tried to convince myself it was just nerves from being excited for my friends, though. And naturally, it wasn't.

I'd called a driver to take us, I was pretty sure none of us would be able to drive. I requested a limo, actually. I wanted to go all out for their special day, it felt special to me, at least. There was plenty of space in the car, but we sat pretty cramped, we wanted each other close, to celebrate and share the whole day together. And even to this day, I feel really honoured that they were with me and that they thought I was a worthy inclusion. Sappy, but it's the truth. And this is about getting the truth out, isn't it?

But I guess this was just to set the mood of the day it all started, I think it makes what's about to come even funnier. How life can change on you so fast, it's all gone in the blink of an eye.

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"You know, I was so.. ecstatic when we were in that car. Life couldn't have been better. We had amazing careers, we worked together, my best friends were about to marry- my life was on track. I had no idea just how much that would change before we got to that club."

(Barbie's POV)

"I need to see that ring again!", I kept reaching for Carrie's hand, I couldn't believe what I was seeing. The ring was gorgeous, of course, but I tried to come to grips with what they'd told me. God, they deserved that so much, they were so happy. Big grins were on our faces, I had her hand again and was lost in my thoughts while staring down at the huge proof of their love when I heard Taylor's voice cut through the excited mumbles of "I can't believe it," and "It's so beautiful."

"Jealous? I bet you want your own by now." I raised my head and my eyes met her teasing smile, I couldn't even have lied my way out of it, she would've been sure she was right. "I mean, it's not that crazy to think about. You've been with Ken for, what? Eight years..?", Carrie looked at her fiancé for confirmation, and continued. "I'd expect a proposal if I were you," she nudged my side and saw my... unsure look, that's a good way to describe it. Before I could even defend myself, she was talking again. "Don't tell me you got married in secret?! I will throw you out of this car!", she was almost screaming, surprising Taylor as well. I quickly pulled back, my head was blank. I had no idea what to even say to that. "No, god no! No, no, no. Not married. Also not engaged- Carrie, god!" I had no control over what I was saying, I just tried to deny it. It wasn't true, after all. It was so absurd, it made me laugh a little, the two joined in and the tension was gone for some seconds. "Come on, I'd tell you, you know that," I told her, because I had to make sure they knew. They were my family, and if they'd doubted it, it would've killed me.

"It's a reasonable question, y'know," Taylor replied with her big smile. "After eight years, we have reason to think you two have a whole secret family already. What's he waiting for?" It was a joke, but of course, it made Carrie curious. "You do think he's going to propose...?", she asked cautiously. And I visibly didn't have an answer for that. The toothy grins turned into pitying frowns, I could hear what they were thinking.

I hadn't thought about getting married in a long time before she asked that, and it was so obvious, I thought I should give all the awards for my acting back. Because, god, how can someone be so obvious?
It had caught me off-guard, though. In my defence. 

"We're just enjoying our life, there's no rush. We're in our twenties, we don't need to get married immediately," I excused it with our age, I didn't have another excuse for it. We were high school sweethearts, and he made sure everyone knew that. I didn't feel threatened just because I didn't have a ring.

But something about the question really... irked me.

"You do think he's going to propose?", Carrie asked again, and the tension was back in the car when she noticed how uncomfortable I felt. I didn't really notice it myself, but of course she had to. Like she had magical powers, or something. I looked away from her, and my avoidance was all she needed. "Wait," I suddenly hear,

"Would you even say yes?"

And suddenly, my life was thrown off-track.

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I can still see the absolute horror in Carrie's eyes when I stayed quiet. God, that girl never held back what she thought.. I wish she had.

(Barbie's POV)

I felt so trapped in that car, trapped in the view of my best friends. On what should've been the best day up to that point.

"Yes!", I responded without thinking, frantic to make them believe it. My reaction only scared them further, though. I tried to take a breath and calm down. "Yes," I said quietly, "Ken is going to propose, and I'll say yes. And we'll have a big wedding with you guys, and we'll have a family, and probably grandkids. Don't doubt it. Not when today is about you," I wasn't even convinced of it myself, but it seemed to work, so.. Taylor shot me another unconvinced look before taking Carrie's hand and nodding. "Yeah, I don't know what got into us." I still couldn't breathe properly, but at least I didn't have to face it immediately after being hit with the reality of my situation.

I said I'd start that day, but I honestly don't remember how I ended up in the club bathroom... it just happened.

All I remembered was-

The lights were flashing too much, my dress was itching and I couldn't bare it. The music was loud, so were my thoughts. The songs were blaring in my ears- and it still wasn't loud enough.

And the drinks just made everything worse. Everything was wrong. Everything. Was. Wrong.

Why is the music so loud? Why are my shoes hurting my feet? Why is the alcohol making my thoughts worse? Why are my thoughts full of doubt? Doubt.

With every second, my heart started beating faster, harder, louder. The music started to fade out, being replaced by my heartbeat and screaming in my head. He must not love you if he hasn't proposed yet.

You must not love him because you feel relieved he hasn't.

"To sum it up, I was fucked."

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(Barbie's POV)

You can spend all of your time pretending it's fine, it's tolerable. At some point, it won't be.

I realised that in the stale air of a club bathroom. Alone. Celebrating the engagement of my best friends. And somehow, I was all alone.

Physically, that was. My head was full of dozens of voices, screaming over each other. It felt like I wouldn't walk out of that bathroom alive. I couldn't breathe- I desperately tried to blame it on the tight cut of the dress, but I knew it was a lie. The dress was just fine, I wasn't. I was drowning in a sea of doubts and worrying and yelling.

Yelling. At that point, I'd grown more used to yelling. Useless and unreasonable fights all the time. All of them started by me. Most of them not his fault.

"Ken, where were you?"
"I was just out with some of my boys, I told y-"
"I can hear it in your voice. You're smoking with your boys."

I'd get unreasonably mad at nothing because I had to get mad at something. That fight we had about his smoking resulted in me storming off and sleeping in a hotel bed. For two nights. And the funny thing? I didn't care if he smoked, I knew he would- it was a bachelor party, of course they would smoke. But I acted as if it was a deal breaker, when in reality, I didn't even care.

I didn't even care. That was the majority of our relationship for me by then. Not caring. Somehow, I hadn't realised it until Carrie asked me that unreasonably complicated question. "Would you even accept?"

The answer to that was pretty much the same: I don't care.

I felt cruel for realising that, cruel because I stayed. By pretending it was fine, I wasted his time. Was I? When did I stop caring? Why didn't I have it in me to just go with grace? More voices. I felt my body being dragged deeper under water with every new voice. And the light started to lessen. I was drowning in a black sea of voices that weren't mine. Ironically, it was one of those voices that let me breathe up, even just once. "Barbie?"

My eyes darted to the voice- Carrie. And she looked worried, shocked. That was when I realised that my face was stained with tears. I had no idea how long I had been gone, how could I have if I didn't even register the tears.

"Barbie- did something happen?"
Everything happened. And nothing. That was the problem- nothing happened anymore. The dinner got cold during the fights, the chatter got old. But nothing new and good happened. And no proposal.

"I- no. Nothing happened. I just-" She shot me that look- the look she always had on when she knew what my problem was. More than I did. 

"It's Ken." It wasn't a question because she knew. I didn't know how. I never knew how she did anything, actually. How she knew my closet like the back of her hand, got out things I had no recollection of buying. So why be surprised if she knew that too? She could see right through me.

"It's time to go." I almost laughed. It was funny because it was so true, but I didn't mean the club. She was right, it was time- but it was time to leave more than just the bathroom of a club.

"I can't go home-", I told her. And it made me sob. Where was home? Because it wasn't the house I lived in. It wasn't him either- it especially wasn't him. I didn't have a home. It was impossible to go there. I could go anywhere I wanted, just not home.

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(Barbie's POV)

What are you supposed to do when the floor falls through again? Because no one ever told me. 

The question rang through my head in one of the screaming voices that actually belonged to me. None of the others tried to answer it. That was the point though, wasn't it? Making it feel like I'd gone mad, and god, that's what it felt like. I felt Carrie's eyes on me in that suffocatingly quiet cab, I felt her worry for me.

A part of me resented her for it, I didn't want pity. Maybe I did, maybe I wanted pity for the wrong reasons. I just knew I hated her pity in that moment and the whole drive through the city that was supposed to never sleep, to never be silent. For once, I wanted the streets to be full of laughter, and sobbing, and screams of people. Of people others would've called insane, it would've made me feel less alone.

Yes, alone. You'd think a popular actress would have bigger problems than that, maybe even the problem of never being alone. It wasn't like that, though. All those celebrities going on and on about feeling alone were actually right. Shocker. Bustling crowds surrounded me, even silent sleepers in the breaks we got on set. But I felt so incredibly alone. It got to the point where I thought I'd be better off gone. Not from the spotlight, but from the face of the earth.

A car going over red and crashing into my side.

A driver falling asleep behind the wheel.

A deer in headlights- at least I always hoped it would happen when I wasn't in the city. If I'd seen a deer in the middle of one of the largest cities in the world, I would've seriously gotten myself checked into the hospital..

Not my point, though. I hoped for any of these things to happen. To make what I desperately wanted to happen seem like a tragic accident.

Poor her, she was just on her way to a friend. A friend, a gala, a set- who would've cared. It would've resulted in the same headlines, the same faked compassion from reporters. Maybe it would've been in the news for a few weeks, until my funeral services had been over. After that? I doubt anybody would've cared. Not really- they never do.

They never really do.

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"I knew they saw the end was near. They saw it in my reaction, they knew the end was near. I don't know when I made the decision to do what I ended up doing, I have no idea if I had an intense fight with myself, or if it came naturally. Not a single thing could've prepared me for how different my life would turn out because of it." I try to put one of my most complex memories into words, but they fail me. Nothing could explain the hatred I felt for myself, for being stupid enough not to see it earlier. For being so goddamn ignorant. I'm reliving all these memories, and I still feel so detached from them.

"But if there's one thing I knew, it was that I can, and will, change everything about me to fit in."

(Barbie's POV)

It felt like I was watching myself in a movie, it didn't feel like my own life.

"Just breathe, just relax, it'll be okay," ran through my head a million times as the scenery of the city started to look more like my neighbourhood. I ended up so in my own head, the conversation Carrie and Taylor had, went right over it. Did I convince them I was fine? Did I tell the truth? Did I stay absolutely silent?
No idea.

I felt so excruciatingly numb, I felt the hits of every new realisation about my life, but they stayed dull and empty. Empty threats if I didn't let them be anything else. So, I decided on doing just that. It was only a few minutes from my house, and I knew I had to say I was fine, even if it contradicted what I'd said before. Again, there's a haze creeping over my actual words, I only know what I meant to say. The gist of it was something along the lines of, "Filming has me exhausted, I spend more time on set than home." 

Home. I missed home.

Instead of simply walking in through the front door, I rang the doorbell after the limo drove off far enough to make me invisible for Taylor and Carrie- I knew they'd watch me for as long as they could. My heart sped up so fast, I truly could've sworn it would give out. That's because my heart knew the truth. Blood started rushing through my body in the way it only did at auditions I worked extremely hard for, it stopped doing it for Ken a long time before. My face heated up, I felt my cheeks burning.

I felt like the small girl growing up in a house full of yelling. And I made a promise to never create my own house of anger and hatred. 

That's the excuse I gave myself for all of the following things.

Ken opened the door, confused as to why I couldn't just let myself in and leave for our room without a word- like I usually did. I stood there for a hesitating moment before realising I had to do what I was about to. With a small smile on my face, I hugged his neck and pressed a kiss onto his lips. I shut my eyes even tighter at the burning sensation of tears, focusing only on convincing him, and myself, that everything was okay- that I could be what he always wanted ladies to be. Sweet, kind, and fun. Everything would be okay. Proposal or not.

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--And he believed that?

I'm faced with the confused expression on the journalists face, who could blame her? I rambled of doubts about Ken and suddenly I'm talking about kissing him. 

"Yes, he did." I am an actress after all. "I know I said nothing happened anymore, but I have to take that back to an extend. He fought and argued with me like I was a mad woman," it's hard to say what goes through my mind, it makes me feel so ridiculously vicious. "But there was also the opposite. Of course the ratio didn't fit at all, but it was there."

--He wasn't surprised? At all?

I hold my breath for a moment longer than I should, I really was hoping she wouldn't ask that, even if it was the first logical thing to ask. "He was. For a moment. Then he kissed me back," so incredibly vicious, "I remember how cold my hands were and how warm his face was. He must've noticed I was freezing- he put his hands on my hips and pulled me closer, he held me in place like his life depended on keeping me safe, right in his arms." The memory used to make me cry every single time I thought about it. It doesn't anymore. There's a question burning on the journalist's tongue, I can feel it. 

"Yeah, I felt like a bitch. He used to watch me receive awards, and whenever the camera panned to him during my speech, his eyes were so bright.. that light dimmed and neither of us noticed."

If one moment can be so loving, why can't the rest be too?

(Barbie's POV)

We both knew our lifestyle could never bring us peace, we promised each other it would be enough to have each other. But sometimes, it's not.

In our lives there were only two extremes: no peace, or too much. That night, it was too much peace. At least after I got home.
There used to be a window in our bedroom, it looked beautiful after sunset, you could follow hundreds of cars driving through the landscape. It became a hobby of mine when I couldn't sleep, which was most nights at that point. There was a turmoil of the same screaming there was in the club, but my mind was also vacant. A scary feeling. 

Terrifying.

Ken was passed out next to me, but I felt so, so uneasy, I had no chance of sleeping. I felt disconnected from everything around me, even from myself. I had no idea who I was anymore. I just... cried. I was sure not to wake him, though, I would've had a whole lot of explaining to do. All I desperately wanted was for someone apart from myself to tell me it would really be okay.

And just as I thought that, I heard the weight on his mattress shift, he turned and put an arm around my waist to pull me against him. Somehow, he felt what I needed while he was asleep.

That was enough for me.

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"You'd think the next days were the crucial ones in this story.. they're not. It's not even days or weeks, the next months weren't important to this story. At all." I know the journalist thinks I'm insane. Maybe I am, who knows at this point? "Surely there's a way to make this sound poetic, but I probably won't find one."

(Barbie's POV)

Words mean too little when you're a little too late. All you can do, is hope you can stay in the moment before the big ending just a moment longer.

That big moment was Taylor and Carrie's wedding in December. Carrie always dreamed of a winter wedding, even if it meant we had to freeze for an hour or two. She told us it'd be worth it. And she couldn't have been more right. It really, really was magical. I didn't know how they always managed to do that, but they made every place they went to magical.

But again, not the point.

By then, the relationship between Ken and I was strained. More complex than when we celebrated Taylor and Carrie getting engaged. It wasn't just fights anymore, I tried to be the perfect girlfriend. Most of the time, that is. We still fought like hell. The switch from fighting to loving after their engagement was like a flood after a drought, it was too much to do any good. So, I tuned it down. I wrote him letters, left handwritten notes, accidently bought too much from his favourite takeout place when he was working. Just sweet nothings I hoped would bring that spark back. I didn't have anyone to talk to, so I just did what I wished he'd do for me.

Being so alone was killing me after a while, I couldn't ask Taylor for advice like I usually did for a multitude of reasons. I knew she would see right through my words, like she always did, and tell me to leave Ken. And even if she didn't, she'd be worried and more stressed than she already was with all the planning her and Carrie had to do.

So I kept to myself, hoping for a miracle to bring me advice. Hoping I would hear it in the silence.

Silence during car rides, silence when I was home alone when Ken worked, silence while I kept watching cars drive by in the window. It was unsettling to think about- all those people had their own problems. Their own dreams, their own fears and nightmares. Their own lives.

They were out there living their lives while I watched mine simply drive by.

"No pun intended," I add when I see how hard the journalist tries to hold back her amusement. It brings me next to no comfort. I don't want my story told, but some people in it deserve to be told theirs.

The thought alone is enough to make my skin crawl.

"We can continue here next time, if you'd like that more." The forced away smile disappears from her face, that does comfort me. I like to have enough power and influence to make people shut up. I'm not saying that's good or right, but it's the truth. I should bring that up later on, it will probably make her hate me a little more than she already seems to do.

--Next week, yes? 

I really like it. Maybe too much. The small smile on my face most definitely gives it away.

"Perfect."

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"People would've looked at me like they were looking at a monster if I would've ruined the wedding. I didn't want to ruin the wedding, but I wanted people to look at me like that even less." I thought I was ready to talk about it, I really did. Now I got to the point of the story where everything stops making sense. I have no idea how to explain it without looking demented. "I'm not saying that's good or right, but it's the truth."

I don't think there's a morally good person in this story. Most definitely not me.

(Barbie's POV)

I talked a lot about being alright and compartmentalising - which I was extremely good at, even then - that doesn't mean I didn't feel like breaking every single day.

I was Carrie's maid of honour, Ken was Taylor's.. best man? That's the best way to describe it. The ceremony went without a hitch, it was truly beautiful. We were all in tears- most of the wedding party anyway. I kind of tried not to listen to their vows after a while, my heart ached because of how sweet they were. It didn't work.

I hid in the bathroom and cried after the ceremony.

Ken and I's love wasn't like that. Their love was fearless. Untouchable.

Ours was... full of sweet nothings. Sweet nothings that turned less sweet and more into nothings.

But, of course, I couldn't show a sign of that at their wedding, which went mostly fine, actually. Until I had to give my toast. I didn't start sobbing, I made sure to get that out of my system in the bathroom, I cried, though. I blamed it on being so incredibly happy, and some saint was on my side, they believed it.

If you didn't know, you'd think the toast was the hardest part, right? How wrong.

They'd booked a big banquet hall for the reception- not really relevant to the story, but it was a gorgeous venue. It was filled with flowers, and the decorators did such a good job at sticking to the December theme. During dinner, I drank enough to make my head lighter, but not enough for anyone to be suspicious. Looking back, I should've had less.

People started to take to the dancefloor, and I started enjoying myself, I even made Ken dance with me. In hindsight, I wonder if he still would've done what he did if I hadn't.

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"Now, you've seen the video, I'm sure. You know which part of the story comes next?", I was mostly sure, now I'm sure she knows. Her smile is tense- as it should be. I'm not making myself popular with what I'm doing in everything I'm telling her, that doesn't mean she shouldn't at least pretend to be sorry for me. Common courtesy.

"I was making my own name. Power went to my head, and I couldn't stop, I was wrapped up in building up my name and reputation, even when it pained me. I knew it wouldn't be comfortable to chase that fame, but there's always, always more to it than you think."

(Barbie's POV)

The name I was making engulfed me and swallowed my true self whole.

Before I realised it on my own, I was circled by the rest of the guests, all stepping aside as they saw the same thing I did.
Ken Carson on one knee in front of his long-term girlfriend.

I could've sworn my heart stopped beating, you wouldn't have been able to find a pulse.

I was frozen for, what, three seconds? I lived my whole life up until that moment in those three seconds, and the two lives my answers would build. 

I knew I could say no, but I had to say yes. It was a wedding, the wedding of my two best friends at that. What friend would I be if I not only almost ruined it by sobbing, but by rejecting the proposal I assured them I was hopefully waiting for?

Horrible. Only a horrible friend would've even considered that option.

If anything, I would've had to reject it at home, in private. Not when I knew cameras were surely pointing at me. Which they did, they always seemed to be on me when I wanted the ground to open up and let me vanish. I thought about how my life would change if I chose to do that.

Moving out was the first thing that came to mind- I didn't want to move out from the house primarily bought by me. 

The rumours, of course. Because there always had to be a scandal- reporters were born to be desperate for anything to make their story land on the front page. What was the reason for the sudden break-up? Infidelity?

God knew I had no mind to deal with all that.

There was also our friends, I thought about how uncomfortable it would be for them to choose sides- most would've chosen Ken's. I knew it back then as well.

Breaking his heart was somehow last on the list in my head.

All that, I thought through in split seconds, I never believed time could stop until it happened to him. My eyes kept jumping from his face to the ring box in his hand. And that ring, god. It was a nice ring. It was gold.

I never wore gold jewellery.

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This is one of the times I'm glad for deciding on a female journalist- she understands how big that detail is. For the first time, the professional façade on her was exchanged for genuine compassion.

Maybe I wanted pity back then, but this feels better.

--I noticed that in your engagement photos-, the distance that should've been there is suddenly gone. She feels for me like I'm her friend, and I had no idea how much it would lighten my heart and sink it at the same time.

--Your wedding ring was gold too,- her remark is quiet, it's not a question because she looked it up, she would've been a bad pick if she hadn't. -I mean the first one, anyway.

She's nervous, worried about overstepping, but when she sees my smile, she mirrors it. I think it's the only actual smile I've seen this week.

"Don't grow too fond of me just yet."

(Barbie's POV)

I was constantly mending to other people's needs, a pathological people pleaser like in the text books. I couldn't even tell when my own body was bleeding out enough to make my heart stop.

Despite how important that moment was, I barely remembered it when I tried to recall it. I didn't remember it the moment after, the day after, the week after.. not on our honeymoon, not on our anniversaries. He kept talking about it being the happiest moment of his life and I couldn't even describe it other than telling you what I said.

Yes.

There was cheering too, but that was a natural reaction. People that hadn't talked to me in years came up to me to congratulate us, others tried to start a conversation after hearing Ken say my name. They knew my name, not my face- one fatal flaw of building a big name. Some of them were truly happy for me, the rest I wanted to disappear. When that didn't work, we got drunk out of our minds.

I needed that so much, it scared me. I never wanted to be dependant on something else, person or habit. I was terrified of starting to break my independency.

We landed in a cab at the end of the night, and I woke up with one of the worst hangovers of my life. I doubted the alcohol was fully at fault. The road not taken looked real good then.

It took me an hour to get up, it was still before Ken woke up. I barely got sleep around that time. I locked myself in the bathroom, the weight of the ring was still unusual- the sight of it even more off-putting. I washed my face, hoping I was just stuck in some never-ending nightmare. I saw every flaw in my face, I kept staring at my reflection while I got ready. I didn't recognize myself, there wasn't any life in me. I sat down and glared down at the ring. I took it off, there wasn't even anything engraved. 

I used to show him pictures of jewellers I liked, they all personalised the ring in some way.

Mine wasn't the cut I wanted.

It wasn't even matching the rest of my jewellery.

Funny enough, Ken had to leave for a job that noon-

--Who proposes and leaves the next day?!-, she suddenly interrupts me, not that I can blame her. He must've known he might propose, Taylor and Carrie didn't look too shocked so he definitely ran it by them.

"Someone who looks at you and can't tell you're dying."

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Was it harsh to say that just now? Way too much, yes. Was it the truth? Sadly, yes.

(Barbie's POV)

Taylor and Carrie's wedding was on the 3rd of December, there should've been chaos in our house. Talks over talks, even arguments over our wedding. 

He was barely home until the holidays.

Work came first.

If there's one thing I always prioritized, it was my career. But he'd just asked me to marry him, for god's sake. It made it easier to pretend everything was okay, since I was alone for the majority of the month, but I was also alone in a house that grew colder and darker with every passing day. I sat in our living room a lot, it was the reason we chose that house, we loved it because of the light. By then, I just sat in the dark and wondered if it was time for him to finally come home.

Family called us, but they only reached me. "You heard? Yeah, we're so excited, we'll see you there!", was all I'd say to different people for days.

I wasn't working, I thought it was better to stay home and focus on what would be the single most important day by then, even if it wouldn't be my happiest. I was destroying myself, but a part of me started to cope and heal in ways I would've never expected. I developed a routine after about a week of staying in bed- I felt numb for a long time after the proposal, but nobody had time to notice. Taylor and Carrie were busy with their honeymoon and looking for their new home, they didn't realise how little they were responding to my texts and calls. They either never listened to my voicemails, or didn't hear how fatigued I sounded. Others didn't know me enough to see a difference, thought I was always overworking- I was, but not to that point. I came to grips with my solitude and moved on. The first thing to actually help me was my journal. It's a cliché, but it gave me something to do even when I didn't leave the house.

Or my bed.

I picked up yoga again, I had a healthy sleep schedule, I remembered how much I loved to cook. I also started cleaning obsessively. That was the only thing he noticed.

When he came home, he mostly found me already asleep. I woke up earlier than him and prepared breakfast for him before going on a walk. I came back to cold, uneaten food on the counter.

I stopped making breakfast altogether. 

The time I saved by cutting it out, I used for planning the wedding the best I could.

I looked at venues alone, I looked at dresses alone, I looked at bands alone. I looked at flowers, colours, dates, cake, guests- 

I decorated for Christmas.

And by then, I was pretty sure he wasn't working overtime.

Chapter Text

Finally I got that part over with. I break eye contact with the journalist and look at the chipped polish on my thumb and the small flakes of red on the skin next to it, it's a habit of mine I want to stop. It's better than crying, though.

--You think he was...?

"I know he was," I answer her unfinished question. "Just hazy on the details, I don't know when it started, but I know he was. If I had to guess, I'd say before the engagement." With that one woman, anyway.

--Do you know why he chose to propose? I mean, you say he was cheating before he did, why would he...? It just doesn't make sense to me.

"Like I said, we're at the part that doesn't make sense to anyone else. It wasn't the logical thing to do, yet it still happened."

I sound demented and insane.

"We barely saw each other the weeks before Christmas, but I noticed him getting more stressed about something that wasn't work."

--His affair?

It is truly, utterly implausible to have such a nice reaction to it, not one that makes me out to be the biggest villain in this story. For the first time in over thirty years, someone feels for me when I say I was cheated on. It's impossible to wrap my head around. 

"This is solely me trying to piece together what happened, pure speculation, I think his affair didn't like the proposal. It was all over the media for a good while, my name was freshly up in lights, after all. I'm guessing she didn't like that and... threatened to stop seeing him? Maybe he was begging her to work it out, who knows. In the end, I know something happened- I'm about ninety-nine percent sure he stopped seeing his affair."

--How so?

"The most obvious part was him coming home earlier again. "They changed the schedule." Yeah, right, sure.."

The journalist scoffs, but no matter how livid I want to be, I can't help but feel like I don't care enough. I've had time to process it, still it feels as though I seriously have gone mad.

"The problem with being in the spotlight is," what would a celebrity be without complaining about fame they wanted? "I couldn't do anything that could potentially spark more rumours. Enough about me was already on every front page, all my secrets were on there. It got to the point of being glad for being alone, I couldn't tell anyone my fears or secrets- and my journal couldn't spill them."

"I stood in front of my mirror every morning, and looked at every zit, every discolouration, every crease, every asymmetry- every flaw I could be dragged through the mud for. At one point, I practically stopped seeing my face. I started to only see the problems, everything else was blurred. For a solid three months, I had no idea what I looked like."

I think it was more than three, but I can still bring that up later.. right?

"Anyway, I got better and worse, as I said. I started my day with a walk, then I actually got ready for the day and continued planning the wedding. Before I cracked enough to cry, I journaled. Sometimes, I skipped lunch, too. It was easy to lose track of time when I wrote everything down."

Everything and nothing, really.

"I cleaned up any mess I found, cleaned the kitchen on the days I made lunch, and went back to plan the wedding. I did yoga a lot, but I didn't have enough time to do it every single day. Sometimes, I went for a shorter walk to fit it in. I made dinner, leaving some on the stove to simmer for Ken to come home to. Usually, I had that for lunch the next day, he barely touched the food I made. I got ready to go to sleep with another hour or two of journaling, then I went to bed."

God, I sound psychotic. Who has a routine that planned while they're trying to have a wedding?

"When Ken came home earlier - which was the week before Christmas - I spent the evening with him instead of my journal. He didn't know I was using it. I was the perfect fiancée during that time. He started to be more appreciative, too. He told me how nice our tree was, and that he liked the decorations I put up. We started to warm up to each other again. Despite the ring on my finger, which still made me want to throw up."

--Warmed up to each other isn't really a word people use for their fiancé.

As if I wasn't aware of that back then or now. 

"Yeah, we didn't really act the way people did, either. It cancels each other out, I guess."

That sounds so pathetic, my god.

"When I was a child, I hated it when celebrities said their life was so hard and tough, the camera flashes made it look like a dream. Then I got famous, and it was all black cars, scandals, and Riviera views. Not that the last one is a complaint. But I understood what they all meant when they talked about pulling back, getting another home with a rose garden, and taking their remaining dignity with them."

Only problem for me was, I never felt like I had any dignity left that was worth saving. 

Chapter Text

"As I said, his affair stopped and he was stuck with me, the change was drastic for him. It showed."

(Barbie's POV)

When you know, you know. But sometimes, I chose to know and ignore it, knowing it would make my life easier to act as if it wasn't happening at all.

Ken had told me there would be a work trip over the weekend- yeah, right. He came home completely out of sorts that week, and funny enough, he said the trip fell through.

He'd always been bad at lying to me, just that I used to think it was because we were meant for each other. Sad truth be told, not everyone ends up with who they're meant for. Some soulmates are meant to stray apart and forget about each other, some are meant to never meet at all.

That Friday, he told me to go out for a while- promised me he had a good reason. Since I barely had friends left - friends that would've spent time with me, that is - I went on a walk. I took my phone with me, I even took some pictures, which was surprising. Not as surprising as what awaited me when I turned the key in the door, though. There was a faint light coming from down the hallway, and I heard someone move around. For a moment, I might have suspected to find him with someone else right on our table. To my absolute shock, it was a homecooked candlelight dinner.

It was the first time that year he'd even touched a pan in our kitchen.

Definitely ended the affair. That one, at least.

I was completely in shock, I had no idea how to react. Thankfully, he talked before I could start.

"I just realised we haven't had a proper meal together since getting engaged. I'm sorry, Barbie, I really didn't mean to work so much." 

A lie, an unscrupulous lie. What a wicked bastard he was sometimes.

"This is amazing, Ken.. you didn't have to do that," was pretty much what I replied. A part of me truly did feel flattered, for once, I told myself I could live with not being the first and only option. So, I leaned in and kissed him. A chaste kiss, the first with actual positive feelings behind it in months.

It genuinely was the nicest evening of that whole month, it was as if we were suddenly living in another universe, one where we still belonged with each other. We sat next to each other, slowly sitting closer until our arms started to touch. My cheeks were flushed with the red wine he'd picked just for our dinner, and the laughter he managed to fill the room with. I barely got my eyes off of him, and none of my mind was on all our problems. Or all the signs for me to leave. 

There was a sparkle in his eyes that hadn't been there for eight months.

Eight.

Months.

"I forgot what a great cook you are," I told him. "I forgot what an amazing woman you are," he replied. Something was simply different. It was easy to kiss him. It was easy to feel his lips move on mine. It was easy to cup his face, not giving him a chance to pull away and break the kiss. His hands were on my waist, then on my hips to pull me closer. I didn't know how he did it, but he lifted me to help me climb onto his lap. I let out a little gasp when he did, which only made him kiss me harder. It flipped a switch in our timeline, we were the same couple we had been a few years before. No troubles, no fights.

He used to love it when I had my hands on the back of his neck, so I did just that. It was a natural thing for me to do, my hands always found themselves there, my fingers always managed to comb through the very bottom layer of someone's hair when I was happy with where I was. I hadn't done it in ages, and there was a silent moment of realising that for both of us. He broke the kiss and looked up at me, even though our faces were still right next to each other. With every breath he took, I felt a breeze on my face. My nose touched his and I felt him kiss me again, so disgustingly gentle. His arm was around my waist, the second further above to hold my back, making sure I was as close to him as possible. The air was heating up, even if our actions didn't. Ken got up, putting me down on a free space on the table for a few moments, he put his hands on my thighs to carry me and we were suddenly in our bed upstairs.

His lips were all over me, even in places I swore he had never touched. He'd told me he wanted me to feel loved, and I had never felt so cherished by him. My touches went from chaste at the start of the night, to frantic. I was desperate to have his lips on mine again, even though I was fighting for breath. I was gasping and panting, it was so exhilarating to feel so emotional again.

Good emotions.

I was fighting for breath when he asked me if I was sure, I only managed to nod, the sly smile on his face took the last of my voice away. He held me close to him, and made sure to not leave an inch of me untouched. It was exhausting to feel so loved. He didn't even let me get up when I wanted to get myself something to drink, he came back with a glass of water and kissed me before he let it go. We talked about so much after, Ken told me he wanted to invite our families for Christmas, all those things. He was considerate, gentle, kind.. everything he wasn't outside of that night. 

It felt like a million little shining stars had just aligned.

I was so happy.

Chapter Text

--You were happy?

"So very much, yes. But.. that happiness wasn't long lasting."

(Barbie's POV)

There's a very important detail I missed. That Friday was the week before Christmas.

For weeks I was in that loop, it felt like forever even though it wasn't even a month. Maybe it's exaggerated on that part.

On December 21st, Ken and I'd had a lovely evening. He went to the bathroom and his phone started going off. I looked at it because I genuinely and sincerely thought it was family.

He didn't have a single family member named Lorrie. Certainly not one telling him their night at the hotel the previous Thursday was great.

I only read what I could without opening the message, and I remembered I didn't have the time either. I almost let his phone fall when I realised he could catch me at any given moment, but I couldn't put it back before he came in. I was stretched halfway over his bed and frozen. I just looked at him, his phone hovering over the nightstand, gripped tightly by my hand.

"You look like you saw a ghost, is something wrong?"

Now, he never realised this, but he had a tell when lying. So small, you could think it was a coincidence. But after a while, I realised his eye twitched when he lied to me.

Just once. For a fraction of a second.

"What? No, of course not. I'm not Eden Starling, I'm not visited by ghosts around Christmas," I replied as calmly as I could. I put on a smile and hoped the joke would distract him.

It was obvious how little my attempt was working, so I went on. "Your phone was going off, and I thought it might be your family. Didn't want to keep anyone waiting. But I saw it was just one of your friends, so I was putting it back."

He looked calm, but his eyes had a horrified stare in them.

"A friend?"

"Yeah, the contact said Lorrie. You told me there was someone on your set called Lorrie, so I just put two and two together," I kept my voice in the sweetest tone I could muster to keep him away from finding out I knew the truth.

Over the weekend, I'd found a receipt for a hotel room and it was dated that November. I wasn't proud of my actions, but I decided to dig a little deeper and found out he booked it with someone called Meredith.

I wasn't dumb enough to think a woman talking to him about being at a hotel was a friend. Not after having genuine proof of infidelity. Maybe Meredith wasn't his main affair at the time, maybe it was a one night stand.

I never cared. I cared about being the only option ever.

Ken slowly stopped giving me that, so I slowly stopped caring.

Chapter Text

The reporter looks at me like I'm some sort of dying patient in a hospital, it's a little dramatic. But then again, so am I.

--How did that feel? What was the thing that hit you the most?

Her question makes me ponder, there was a lot that made everything about the situation fatal for the trust I still had in people.

"It's how somebody could be your best friend, and your companion, and your most trusted person in your life- and then they could go and become your worst enemy, who knows how to hurt you because they were once your most trusted person."

--It's the worst betrayal.

(Barbie's POV)

For Christmas, I wished for a new life.

That Christmas was probably the most eventful up to that year, but it went by in such a blur. Nothing burned itself into my memory like it was supposed to. The only thing that stuck, was the question about when we'd start a family. "Now that you two are getting married...," was something that was said at least fifty times that week.

It was exhausting.

Especially since Ken didn't seem too happy about it.

Which made the following ten times more confusing.

We threw a party to celebrate the new year, and I was busy cleaning up after everyone left. A lot of dishes were impossible to rinse off, so I gave up and joined Ken in the living room.

He was on the phone.

I didn't really want to wake up the next day with glitter and confetti all over the floor, so I did the sweeping myself as well. I wasn't even mad about it, I did it and felt like a robot while doing so. That was until I felt Ken's arms around my waist and his chin on top of my head. "It really was a crazy year, huh?"

I knew he still felt confident in his ability to hide affairs, which made it so much funnier in my head.

"I'm glad it's over now, I want all that to be in the past," never in my life did I say such a lie. I was fuming, I wanted to be petty. I wanted to scratch his face out, throw things across the room, and kick him out. But he couldn't know that, what would my life have been if it wasn't for our relationship?

"How did you feel about all the questions from your aunt?", he murmured.

I knew what he meant, and it gravely confused me.

"Well, it was bound to happen, no?", I joked, hoping he'd back away from it.

He did the opposite, and I wanted to die on the spot. I felt like vomiting when he went on. My whole life was over.

"We should get eloped."

Chapter Text

It doesn't sound right, and it doesn't feel real.

--Eloped?

That single word has a million other questions in it, questions I've failed to answer myself for the past three decades.

"Eloped. To me, it only proved one thing."

(Barbie's POV)

He didn't care about the one day I could've tried to celebrate with my family around me. The one day that could've let me feel happy in my endless loop of misery.

And he wanted to take it away just like that.

I wanted to turn around and slap him, I wanted to scream at him. I just wanted to break something.

What hurt the most, was nobody noticing how truly close I was to losing myself in the pit I'd dug. Or they didn't want to care- maybe it wasn’t important enough. I would've understood it.

But the silence? It hurt more than Ken could've ever hurt me.

"Eloped"“, I repeated, the word feeling like tar in my mouth as I spoke it. I didn't want to think he was serious about his request.

"Eloped," he answered again, and I heard the smile in his voice.

The problem was simple, truly. There was no way for me to tell him off. No reasonable way, at least.

"Ken, I'd love that, really, but," I was stammering more than I ever had before. "I don't know if it's a good idea."

He didn't like my answer one bit, that much was obvious.

"Listen," I said and turned around to look up at him with a ridiculously fake smile, "I just think there's a lot of people expecting a big wedding, that's all."

"We can get eloped and have a wedding."

I knew he'd say it, yet I still hated him for it.

"Of course, but the magic wouldn’t be the same, don’t you think?", I mumbled with a pout. My hand went to his cheek, and I had to double the restraints in me to keep from gouging his eye out right there in our living room.

It seemed so cold with no light present in it. Metaphorically, of course.

I hoped I hadn't lost the last bit of remaining control over Ken as the split second stretched into an infinite seeming moment.

"Okay, you're right. No elopement."

I looked way too relieved, and he noticed.

I hated how well he still knew some parts of me.

"I just don't want to lose that magic for our big day, that's all there is. I promise. I wish we could have our wedding now, I want to marry you as soon as possible."

"The last part wasn't even a lie," I add quietly. "I wanted it to be over so I could be done with it."

I try to keep my voice steady, but I know I'll fail.

"I took up too much time, and too much effort, even for our wedding."

Chapter Text

"I'll skip ahead a little," I say. "Mostly because during that time not a lot of things happened that are worth telling. Horrible depression and infidelity about sums it up."

(Barbie's POV)

I asked myself if I'd always wonder about the "What if" and if I'd always be haunted by it.

I didn't think it was right to suffocate in your wedding dress, but the tailor told me it was. My ribs had the feeling she lied. And my struggle to breathe didn't come from how tight my dress was, not really. Staring at a mirror, a dozen of people fixing my dress in the reflexion, I imagined I was anywhere but there.

Everything was so white - it was what I always wished to avoid for my wedding. It looked sterile, not celebratory. Maybe it was my mind playing a trick on me because I wished to have a moment like in the movie I played. But I wasn't Elaine, and he wasn't Nick. We were just a normal, real couple.

However real the shell of a relationship could've been, anyway.

I had nobody to walk me down the aisle. I'd always imagined everyone would stand and I'd be reviled for a split second because of the sheer jealousy that wrecked everyone watching. I felt like dying, really, I saw all of my lives flashing before my eyes. For a second I really thought my body had given out, but no, I was still there. 

I wanted to scoff at myself for it.

It was a wonderful ceremony in theory, but it was forced. The whole time, I wanted to throw up my guts. In the car to the airport it was dead silent. No excitement. No happiness. It looked like we were going to a funeral, really. I was stuck with a man I loathed and my mind.

Maybe, I thought, I'll marry him and the cheating will stop.

"I won't confess that I waited," I pull myself out of the memory, "I waited for him to grow up. To stop." How wrong I was.

Chapter Text

--You just.. went through with it?

"It's hard to explain an impossible decision. I didn't have a choice, did I?"

I look at her, I almost smile at her confusion, how naïve she must be to be confused, and how much it reminds me of me.

"You either die a hero, or live long enough to become a villain. He was proof of it. I could tell you about all the horrors of the marriage, but do you really want to know?"

--You're not doing this for me. This is your story, how much are you willing to tell?

All roads led me here, and for a moment, I think about crashing my car again.