Broken Strings

C H A P T E R T W E N T Y - T H R E E

She gave people second chances, third even. She really tried to believe that people could change, and they deserved another chance to prove that. But perhaps, the biggest cause of her broken heart was that she'd always put others before she put herself. It was always about someone else before it was about herself. 

While doing so, she had ruined her own happiness. And broken her own heart. 

She had focused on trying to fix Andrew's broken heart. Because she had wanted him to be happy, because she didn't want to see him suffering. But she had broken her own heart while doing so.

And then, she stayed in a loveless, a hopeless marriage for the sake of her kids, of their happiness. But she had forgotten about her own happiness while doing do. 

"Yet, I still don't know why I stayed. I could've left. Sure, I was scared of being a single mother, I was scared of being all alone again. But still, here I am, married but alone." 

Anisha shrugged, finally looking at him, a small glance before she quickly looked away. She had avoided the question he'd asked. Instead, her answer ran around in circles, just like she had her entire life. She rubbed her nose. Her nose was stuffy, almost a little runny. Her eyes were red, but also dull. Her throat was scratchy and her voice was uneven. 

She felt sick. She was sick. 

Physically. And mentally. 

"I stayed because I didn't want to raise my kids to grow up in a broken family. I didn't want you to only see them on weekends or for a few weeks over the summer. I wanted you to be there, for them. I wanted to give them that. I tried to give them that." Anisha pinched bridge of her nose, almost in irritation.

She had done every single thing she possible could have to try and save her marriage. But it was all no use. The effort was never reciprocated. 

"Still, I could've figured it out. A lot of people get divorced and a lot of kids grow up in broken families. But they still grow up happy. Maybe a divorce would've been better. We should've been better off if we got a divorce. Don't you think?" 

Andrew's lips parted. And he froze. He couldn't formulate a single word or single response. His eyes kept dancing from the scars on her wrist to the wedding ring on her finger. Every few minutes, he'd run his own hand over his wrist. In a way, he was afraid to acknowledge what'd she'd done. What he'd done, to her. 

"No." Everything around him was jumbled, a mess that he'd made. "I don't want a divorce. We..."

A dry laugh escaped Anisha's lips. He didn't know anything, yet. He was sorry for the scars on her wrists. Yet, he had no idea how much she was suffering this very second.

He didn't know about the pills she had hid in her dresser. He didn't know about the doctor's appointments she had every Thursday. He didn't know about the pain in her stomach or the blood count that deathly low.

He knew nothing, absolutely nothing. 

"We'll make it work. You promise you will change. This time thing are going to be different. We're going to make it work." She smiled at him, her empty eyes staring back at him as she finished his sentence for him.

"Just the same shit every fucking time. Do you even want to know how many times I've heard that excuse, those same promises? And do you want to know how many times you've broken those promises?" 

"Anisha." His voice was strained. It was as though he was pleading with her to not give up. To hold on, just a little longer.

"Don't." She shook her head, repeatedly, loosening her grip on the chair. "Just don't."