mialotte: the love my sweetheart longed to have

chapter one: i need to get out.

A/N: Mia and charlotte do know eachother and mia is still reeces ex but we're going to pretend that mia and Marjorie do get along for the sake of the story line..

Third person pov:

Charlotte had always been the kind of woman who believed in second chances. When she first met Ethan, he was charming and attentive. He made her feel like she was the only person in the world, promising her a life full of love and laughter. But somewhere along the way, the fairy tale unraveled. The first time he hurt her, he apologized with flowers and tears. "It'll never happen again," he promised, holding her tightly. Charlotte wanted to believe him. She had to believe him—because to admit that this was the man she'd married felt like a failure.

But the apologies stopped after a while. The flowers became fewer, the tears replaced by cold, calculated anger. Ethan's control over her life tightened like a noose. He criticized everything she did, from the way she dressed to how she spoke to friends and family. Soon, she had no one left but him. Her world became smaller, quieter, until all that was left was the constant fear of when his temper would flare next.

She tried to leave once. Packed a bag while he was at work, holding her breath as she zipped it closed. But as soon as she stepped outside, she felt the weight of her decision crush her. Where would she go? Her friends had stopped calling, her parents lived miles away, and Ethan controlled the money. The isolation was suffocating. She knew he would find her, and when he did, the consequences would be worse than before. She hadn’t even made it to the end of the street before turning back, her heart pounding in her chest, her legs trembling.

Ethan had barely noticed when she returned, only grunting in her direction. But she knew he’d notice eventually. She lived on eggshells, terrified that any wrong move would bring out his rage.

It was in the quiet moments that the gravity of her situation hit her the hardest. She would sit by the window, staring out at the world passing by, wondering if anyone knew what was happening behind closed doors. She'd watch people walking hand in hand, laughing freely, and wonder if they'd ever felt as trapped as she did. The silence in the house would press down on her, the only sound her own breathing as she waited for Ethan to come home, for the inevitable explosion.

She began to feel like a ghost in her own life. She had no identity outside of her role as his wife, no friends, no family who truly knew what she was going through. Every day, she told herself she would find the courage to leave, but the fear was always louder.

It wasn’t until one night, after a particularly vicious argument, that Charlotte realized how close she had come to losing herself completely. Ethan had thrown her against the wall, his hands tight around her throat. For a moment, she thought he might actually kill her. But then he let go, watching her crumple to the floor as though she were nothing. As she lay there, gasping for breath, something inside her clicked. She didn’t deserve this. No one did.

The next day, when Ethan left for work, Charlotte didn’t pack a bag. She didn’t take anything with her except her phone and the clothes on her back. She walked out the front door, her hands shaking, her heart pounding, but she didn’t look back. She walked to the nearest bus stop and sat down, unsure of where she would go but certain that anywhere was better than the life she was leaving behind.

For the first time in years, Charlotte felt a flicker of hope. The road ahead would be long and difficult, but for the first time, she allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, she would be okay.

Charlotte sat at the bus stop, her hands clenched into fists to stop them from shaking. The October air bit at her skin, and the cold seeped through her thin jacket, but she didn’t care. She kept her eyes fixed on the road, willing the bus to come faster. Every second felt like an hour, and with each passing moment, the fear gnawed at her. What if he came back early? What if he realized she was gone and came looking for her? The weight of all the what-ifs pressed down on her chest, making it hard to breathe.