Fifty Shades of Commitment

12- not edited

3 weeks.

3 weeks of hell.

3 weeks of my own personal hell.

3 weeks of ice-cream, chick-flicks and tissue box, after tissue box, after tissue box.

3 weeks post-Christian.

And is it getting better?

No.

Will it ever get better?

Hell no.

After that numbing scene in the penthouse, the pain grew worse and worse after each second, my subconscious constantly scolding me with the what if's.

What if I never left?

What if it was all just a game?

What if he didn't really love her?

Eventually, the feeling of sorrow and regret  faded away, but not without bringing my humanity with it.

I went fully numb.

Numb from emotions.

Numb from actions besides moving the spoon from the freezing box to my sore lips, also numb from all the biting marks my teeth imprinted in them, pressing the curves of my fingernails against the buttons of the television remote and, of course, extracting tissue.

After tissue.

After tissue.

After tissue.

This mantra went on for 3 precise weeks.

That was until the doorbell of my temporary apartment echoed through the weak walls.

That day was going exceptionally well- no reminders of Christian, of the Grey family, or, in fact, of any grey object in here.

But that was until I opened the door and saw an empty hallway in front of me.

"Hello?" I called.

No answer.

Sighing, I put my pale fingers against the doorknob in the attempts to close the door.

But then I saw it.

A pink letter sitting on the center of my doormat.

And it didn't last long until I felt the tears in the back of my eyes.

Because on my doormat, on the third week of me trying to get over Christian, sat a wedding invitation.

The wedding invitation.

~~~~~~

OH MY LORD.

OH MY SWEET LORD ABOVE.

I UPDATED.

FSOC WAS UPDATED.

MIRACLE

oh and enjoy the smallest chapter ever bc im horrible as a writer and couldnt stand writing more ueueueuueueeeuee