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We can’t go back and moving on doesn’t feel possible. But why does it have to be this hard? There was an easy solution, something that would see us both happy, one that didn’t throw everything we have right out the window. I would bring his family to him. He’d get to keep his home AND be with his family, and I'd get to keep him.
I’ve shown him how much he means to the club. How much he means to me. How much I can’t fathom the thought of being here without him. How without him none of this matters. That if he goes, I go. I’ve ripped myself open, laid my entire heart on the line and for what? A strained silence? He can’t seem to give me anything. But it’s more than the silence that kills me. It’s his lack of reaction. As if it’s nothing, as if I am nothing. There’s no a reprieve from the torture he’s putting me through. Every ongoing moment of silence I feel my heart shatter further.
This isn’t Ted. This isn’t my Ted, this shell beside me. I barely recognise the man who doesn’t see walking away as the cheats way out. He’s shut down, he’s running and the harder I try to get through the further I feel him disappear. The harder he pulls away. I need him to fight. I want him to fight. Fight for us. Fight for me. Fight for himself. For who he’s fought so hard to become in the last 3 years.
I can still fight while I still have something to fight for. But how do I fight for something, for someone who’s given up on themself, given up on us.
How could he think this was the right decision? One that would make him happy? That this would be the right solution? That walking away was all that was left to do?