“Egg shells,” I told her. “It felt like walking on egg shells.”
She had asked me what it felt like to be with him. She continued, “So why did you stay? Why did you put yourself through that?”
I smiled. “Because, sometimes, it wasn’t all that bad. If I tip toed in just the right pattern—if I watched my steps carefully—it was beautiful. We were beautiful.” Then my smile fell. “But sometimes, the egg shells cracked if even just the wind blew in the wrong way. And that’s when I should’ve left, but I never could make myself.”
She looked at me with sad eyes.
“I loved him,” I told her. “I loved him so much that I became an expert at every game he played. And he loved who I became for him.”
— excerpt from an unfinished book #121 // It felt like walking on egg shells