𝐂𝐑𝐘ᵃʳⁱᵃⁿᵃ ᵍʳᵃⁿᵈᵉ

twelve

every morning is the same.

i wake up at six thirty every morning and take a cold shower to wake me up. after my shower, i get dressed and brush my teeth. i do my hair and my makeup, and go downstairs to make breakfast before i wake up the twins.

when the twins are done eating, they busy themselves in the living room with their toys. i quickly go outside and run to check the mail.

some days, there's nothing except a brochure for a vacation resort. other days, there's two or three letters waiting for me. all of them are from her.

for the last two months, i've gotten a letter from her to count for every day since i last saw her. sixty two days, sixty two letters.

the letter usually consists of one sheet of paper that's completely filled in her messy handwriting-front to back.

the first week or so, her handwriting was so bad that i almost couldn't read it due to the shaking of her hands-tremors. in some of them, the ink of her pen is smudged or blurred-tears.

the first week of her letters consisted of apology after apology. every line was her telling me how sorry she was and i couldn't read them without breaking down in tears. every letter i got, i could hear her voice in my head, reading it to me. hearing her say some of the things she wrote in that first week of letters makes me restless.

after that week, apologies dwindled down as she collected herself and her thoughts, and then her letters were retellings of her days. each letter tells me about one day.

after about two weeks, she started adding in polaroids. apparently she had gotten her hands on a camera and decided to send me a picture or two with every letter. my favorite one that i've been sent is definitely a picture of her feet shoved into fuzzy socks and a pair of slippers.

it seems stupid for it to be my favorite since it's literally just a picture of her feet, but it makes me happy. it's a silly picture that a child would take, but i love it so much because it reminds me of her. the old her.

everything in me is conflicted. my head is telling me one thing and my heart is screaming the other.

everyone expects me to hate her, and i feel like some people want me to hate her, but i just can't. how could i hate her? she makes me happier than anyone ever has, even if she drives me crazy. she's the love of my life, the mother of my children, and the only person in the world i can imagine myself spending the rest of my life with. i can't hate her.

but some days, i hate her more than anything. i hate the way she made me feel for those months and i hate the way she treated me on her bad days. i hate how she chose it over me and our kids. i hate how she thought she couldn't talk to me or tell me the truth. i hate how she missed the twins' birthday. i hate how i've had to live the past two months without her by my side all because she was stupid and selfish. i hate what she did, but i'll never hate her.

i can't stand not having her with me, but i don't want to be selfish. no matter how much i wish she were here, i always have to remind myself that it's better that she isn't. she's getting better right now, and the next time i see her, it'll be like nothing ever happened. if i had to go without her for a few months to get her back-truly get her back-then so be it.

"ari, are you alright? you haven't even touch your plate." my mom's soft and concerned voice broke me out of my trance of overthinking. i blinked, looking away from aurora's messy face and to my mothers worried one.

"i'm okay, mom. just...you know." i sighed, putting down the tiny fork i was using to feed aurora and grabbing a napkin to wipe off her face.

once she was clean, i moved back over to jay and picked up his fork, scooping up some pasta and holding it up to his mouth. he scrunched up his nose just like she would before turning his head to the side.