Break Me

22

The courthouse loomed ahead, a squat, unassuming building, the kind that blended into the scenery unless you were looking for it. The air was crisp, a gentle breeze ruffling the hem of my simple white dress as I stood outside, waiting for Ethan to arrive. My hands trembled slightly, so I kept them clasped tightly in front of me, trying to suppress the rising tide of anxiety that had been bubbling inside for days.
Amy and Daniel stood beside me, their quiet presence grounding me. Amy kept stealing glances at me, her brows furrowed with concern, but I avoided her gaze. I didn't want to see the worry I knew was there.
"Ellie, you okay?" Amy asked softly, her voice barely audible over the sounds of traffic.
"I'm fine," I lied, forcing a small smile. It was a response I had perfected over the past few weeks, one that had become automatic, even though everything inside me screamed that I wasn't. I felt like I was suffocating, each breath more difficult than the last.
This was for the baby, I reminded myself. I was doing the right thing—for my child. Ethan was stable, dependable, and able to provide for us. On paper, it all made sense. He was everything I should want. Everything I should need.
So why did I feel like I was walking toward the edge of a cliff?
Ethan arrived, grinning as he hurried toward us. His hair was slightly tousled, his suit a little too formal for the occasion, but he looked genuinely happy. His face lit up when he saw me, and for a moment, the weight on my chest doubled.
"You look beautiful," he said, leaning in to kiss me on the cheek. His hand found mine, warm and reassuring, as though we were embarking on a grand adventure.
"Yeah," I managed to say, my voice catching. The word felt like a betrayal as it left my lips, but Ethan didn't notice. He was too wrapped up in the excitement of the day, too caught up in the future he had so carefully imagined for us.
The small ceremony was held in a plain, fluorescent-lit room. The judge's words blurred together, the legal formalities passing by in a haze. I stood there, repeating vows I didn't fully believe, my hands cold despite Ethan's firm grip on them. He squeezed my fingers, his eyes twinkling with the excitement of a new chapter.
When it was my turn, I said, "I do," but inside, my heart ached with the knowledge that this wasn't the life I truly wanted. It wasn't the life I had ever envisioned for myself, but it was the one I had chosen—out of fear, and out of responsibility.
The applause from Amy and Daniel felt hollow, like a sound from far away, muffled by the rush of thoughts that spun through my mind. They were here because they loved me, because they supported me, but I knew they saw the truth I was desperately trying to hide. Amy's expression was a mix of sadness and forced cheer, and Daniel's smile didn't quite reach his eyes.
Ethan, on the other hand, beamed as though this were the happiest day of his life. He couldn't stop grinning as we signed the papers, making everything official. His joy was palpable, contagious even, but I couldn't catch it. It floated just out of my reach, like something I could see but not touch.
After the ceremony, we stepped outside into the late afternoon sunlight. Ethan wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me close. "Can you believe it? We're married!" he exclaimed, his voice bright with excitement.
"Yeah," I said softly, staring straight ahead, not trusting myself to look him in the eye.
"We should do something special to celebrate," he continued, oblivious to the turmoil swirling inside me. "Maybe dinner at that Italian place ? Or a little weekend getaway?"
"That sounds nice," I replied, my voice distant.
We reached the street, and Ethan left to go get the car. As I waited for him to return, I glanced back at the courthouse one last time, and that's when I saw Trevor.
He was standing across the street, half-hidden behind a group of people, but there was no mistaking him. My breath caught in my throat as our eyes met for a split second. His face was thinner, more haggard than I remembered, but the sight of him stirred something deep inside me—something I had buried long ago.
I blinked, and when I looked again, he was gone. The crowd shifted, and he disappeared into the flow of people moving along the sidewalk. My heart pounded in my chest, a mixture of shock and something else I couldn't quite name.
"Ellie? You okay?" Ethan's voice snapped me back to reality.
I nodded quickly, forcing a smile. "Yeah, just... thought I saw someone I knew."
"Oh?" he asked, but he didn't press. He was too focused on the future to dwell on the past.
We climbed into the car, and as we drove away, I stared out the window, my thoughts racing. Seeing Trevor, even for that brief moment, had opened a door I had tried to close for good. I had convinced myself that I had moved on, that marrying Ethan was the right choice, but now I wasn't so sure.
No matter how much I tried to push it away, the truth was undeniable: I still loved Trevor. I had never stopped. I had made my choice, and there was no turning back. Ethan was kind, dependable, and he cared for me in a way that was safe and secure.
When we pulled up to our apartment, Ethan leaned over and kissed my temple. "I love you, Ellie. This is going to be amazing—you, me, and the baby. We're going to build a great life together."
"I love you too," I said automatically, the words tasting foreign on my tongue. I wanted to mean them, for Ethan's sake, for the baby's, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I was living a lie.
Ethan climbed out of the car, already talking about dinner plans, and I followed him slowly, feeling the weight of the decision I had made settle over me like a heavy blanket. He was happy—blissfully unaware of the storm brewing inside me—and for now, that would have to be enough.
We walked inside the building, and I knew one thing with absolute certainty: I would never love Ethan the way I loved Trevor. And that truth, no matter how deeply I buried it, would always be there, just beneath the surface, waiting to break through.
The days following our courthouse wedding blurred into a monotonous routine. Ethan, buoyed by the excitement of our marriage and the baby on the way, had begun preparing to leave for basic training. His enthusiasm was palpable—he saw this as the beginning of something big for us. A fresh start. A solid plan for the future.
I, on the other hand, felt like I was being swept along in a current I couldn't escape. No matter how many times I reminded myself that this was the right thing—for the baby, for stability—the gnawing unease never left me.
Ethan spent most of his time making calls and filling out paperwork. He was due to leave in just a few short weeks, and though I tried to stay engaged, asking questions about his training schedule, I could feel myself withdrawing.
One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and cast a soft glow into our small living room, Ethan sat beside me, going over his packing list for basic training. His fingers traced down the sheet, listing items he needed, his brow furrowed in concentration.
"I should be able to finish all this by the end of the week," he said, setting the list down. "Then I'll have a couple of days to just relax before I go."
I nodded absently, my mind elsewhere. I was watching him, but my thoughts were far from the excitement he exuded. It felt surreal, being this close to him and yet feeling so distant at the same time.
"You okay, Ellie?" Ethan asked, his voice softening. He placed his hand on my knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You've been quiet."
I forced a smile. "Yeah, just... a lot to think about, I guess. Everything's changing so fast."
His expression softened even more, as if he understood my unease. But he didn't. He couldn't. Ethan was kind, and he was trying so hard to make this work. That made it worse somehow, knowing I wasn't giving him the same back.
"I know it's a lot," he said. "But we're doing this together. I'll go to basic, and once I get my orders for where I'll be stationed permanently, we'll figure everything out. We'll make a home there for the baby and for us."
I swallowed the lump forming in my throat. Perfect. That word stung more than I wanted to admit. "Yeah," I murmured, looking away, pretending to adjust the blanket on my lap.
He took my hand and smiled, the kind of warm, reassuring smile that should have comforted me but only made me feel more guilty. "I've been thinking... it's probably best if you stay with Amy and Daniel while I'm in boot camp. You'll have help with everything, and you won't be alone while I am gone."
"That sounds like a good idea," I agreed, my voice barely above a whisper.
He nodded, satisfied, and then leaned forward to kiss my forehead. "We've got this, Ellie. Just a year, and then we'll be together, starting our life. I'll take care of everything, I promise."
I didn't respond. Instead, I let my head rest against his shoulder, focusing on the rhythm of his breathing, on the steady beat of his heart. He was so certain, so sure of everything, and yet all I could feel was dread—a deep, sinking feeling in my stomach that I couldn't shake.
The next few weeks passed by quickly. Amy and Daniel had been cautious at first when I told them Ethan and I agreed that I'd stay with them while he was gone. Their quiet, knowing glances spoke volumes. Neither of them was thrilled with my decision to marry Ethan, but they had supported me nonetheless, like they always did.
I packed up my things, preparing to move back into their apartment for the foreseeable future. I caught Amy watching me from the corner of the room, her face etched with concern.
"You know you don't have to do this, right?" she said, leaning against the doorframe, her arms crossed. "You could come stay with us without—without all this. You're not trapped, Ellie."
I stopped folding clothes for a moment, looking at her. "I know," I whispered, my throat tight. But did I? I didn't feel trapped by Ethan so much as by the choices I'd made—choices that had led me here.
Amy walked over to me, sitting down on the bed. "You don't love him, El. You don't have to marry someone just because you're having his baby."
"I already married him," I muttered, the reality of those words sinking deeper with each passing day. "And it's not about love anymore, Amy. It's about doing what's best for my baby."
"Is it, though?" Amy countered, her voice gentle but firm. "You're miserable. The baby's going to need you to be okay, too. What about what's best for you?"
I didn't know how to answer that. I stared down at the clothes in my lap, feeling the tears prickling at the corners of my eyes. "I'm just...trying to do what's right."
Amy sighed softly, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "I know you are. But sometimes doing what's 'right' isn't the same as doing what's right for you."
The day Ethan left for basic training was surprisingly uneventful. I had expected more emotion, more fanfare, but instead, it was quiet. We drove to the bus station, Ethan's duffel bag packed and slung over his shoulder.
He was excited, nervous in a way that made him talk too much, filling the silence with chatter about training drills, deployment possibilities, and how much he'd miss me and the baby. I nodded along, but I could feel myself pulling further and further away as the minutes passed. It wasn't that I didn't care; it was that I felt like I was drowning in a life that didn't fit me.
We pulled up to the recruiters office, and the last goodbyes hung in the air, Ethan turned to me with that same warm, eager smile.
"I'll write as much as I can," he promised, pulling me into his arms. "And before you know it, I'll be back, and we'll start our life together. Just hang in there, okay? We're going to be a family, Ellie."
I forced a smile, letting him hold me, but my chest tightened. Family. I wanted that. I wanted to give my baby the kind of stability I never had growing up, but it felt like I was living someone else's life. This wasn't my dream. This wasn't how it was supposed to go.
"I love you," Ethan whispered into my hair before pulling away to walk inside.
For the first time since this whirlwind started, I allowed myself to feel the full weight of it. The doubt. The fear. The overwhelming sense that I had made a mistake—one that I couldn't undo now.
"I'm here for you, El," she said quietly, her hand finding mine as she drove us back to her apartment. "Whatever you need, I'm here."
I squeezed her hand, grateful for her, but the truth was, I didn't know what I needed anymore. I had agreed to stay with Amy and Daniel until Ethan's orders came through, but beyond that, everything felt uncertain. Every step forward felt like another stone being placed on my chest, making it harder to breathe.
Deep down, I knew the truth. I had made my bed, and now I had to lie in it. I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep pretending that this life—this marriage—was the one I wanted.