𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 | f. w

liv. we could have had it all

chapter fifty-four
WE COULD HAVE HAD IT ALL

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Edith

» » I'VE MADE TOO MANY mistakes in my life to count. I've made all the wrong choices and along the way, I've hurt the people I care about as well as myself. It's gotten to a point where I find it exhausting, and I'm not entirely sure I'll ever be able to stop. Maybe it's just the way I'm wired, maybe I'm someone who fucks up all the time, and maybe that's never going to change.

I just wish I could feel some semblance of control when it comes to my life. I wish I didn't have to feel so helpless all of the time, that I could finally find some space to breathe properly. To be happy for longer than a second without having to worry about what's waiting around the corner. To not have to worry about the future, and worrying whether or not I am even going to have one.

I've made my fair share of mistakes, it's true. But to this day, the worst mistake I've ever made in my life was pushing Fred away. Each time I did, I felt myself growing weaker and weaker, and I lost a piece of myself as I watched him go after having forced myself to tell him it was all for the best if we no longer were together. It hurt in a way I will never be able to explain to anyone, and even though I convinced myself time and time again that it was for the best; I regret it more than anything.

But when I found out I had been carrying his child—our child—I lost total control of the situation. I thought that if I distanced myself, if I made the choice and left him, that I could have a chance at a new life. That I could finally be happy, if only I started anew. Wiped the slates clean, moved on from a past that had only hurt me.

I was wrong. It took me a while to realise, but eventually, I did.

When I miscarried, I felt my whole world collapse. I became a hallow version of who I used to be, and I couldn't see a future for myself. I wanted so desperately to die, to leave this world along with my unborn child. Everything felt hopeless, and I saw no peak of light at the end of my tunnel. I saw no reason to stay if I couldn't live the life I truly wanted for myself.

I was miserable.

So I guess in a way, Anton saved me. He came into my life in a time where I wanted nothing but to disappear, to cease to exist, to climb into bed and never wake up. He brought some of the colour back into my life that I had been missing for so long, and I quickly found myself enjoying his company. He was nice to me, he didn't treat me as someone who needed to be saved or healed, but as a real person. He saw me as I was, and the way he looked at me, made my insides warm. I felt safe around him—comfortable—and slowly but surely, I began to heal.

But I didn't love him. At least not in the way that he loved me. Not in the way that he deserved.

And not in the way that I loved Fred.

"You'd think after everything you two have been through together, you'd finally learn that you're better off in each other's lives than you are apart. He loves you and you love him, Edith, so why are you so stubborn? Why can't you just tell him? You even admitted that you're not happy with Anton. Not in the way Fred makes you happy."

I had pretty much always known that my friends (who also happened to be Fred's friends) wanted us to be together. They had told me countless times throughout the years that I seemed both happier and more confident in his presence, and that my face would practically light up whenever he was around. I knew all too well myself, that there was nothing but truth to it, and that Fred made me a version of myself I loved more than any other.