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*** Karis' POV***

Every single day is a battle. It's exhausting. I'm worn down until I feel like I can't possibly continue. I can't understand what is wrong with me. I hurt for things that never were. I cry about things that no longer are. My mind continuously reminds me that I have failed.

I have so much going for me. My business has taken off. I managed to survive moving to a new city with great success. Businesses often fail after you transfer locations. On the contrary, my catering company has flourished. In this aspect, business, I am far from a failure.

It's this organ that pounds in my chest. I have done nothing but take advantage of it. I'm paying the price. Fate can be cruel.

My relationship with Christopher has taken so much out of me. I feel guilty for breaking his heart and my own. At what point can I forgive myself for making choices that were best for me? Am I selfish? Have I sacrificed another's heart so that mine could be free?

I ask myself these questions randomly every single day. It's like I can't stop torturing myself long enough to heal. I want to heal. I have tried. I feel like I am self-sabotaging.

Then there is Vance. In another life, maybe we could have met on different terms. I think that if I try to allow myself to love him, it would come easy. That is so scary. My heart says to let him in. My mind reminds me that no one is perfect forever. I may end up harming Vance the way I have harmed Christopher. No one deserves that.

My fingers grip the serrated cake scraper as I slowly turn the cake table. A wedding cake sits to my left waiting on the final layer. I am not bitter as I create the five tier cake. I am amazed that with so much going wrong in relationships, others have found new beginnings filled with hope.

The buttercream icing smoothly etches with the teeth's grooves. Switching tools, I pick up the piping bag to begin with the border. I work diligently to make every scallop even. The ribbons of icing create an elegant drapery along the sides of each round cake.

Vance. That man is more than patient. It has been several weeks. He doesn't push. He just exists along side me to keep me standing when all I feel like doing is wilting. At what point will he change? When will my scars become so prominent that he takes his leave? It is bound to happen. It always does.

Christopher contacts me more frequently than I appreciate. I don't mind answering a few questions or even talking him through the simplest of tasks. However, it often feels like he contacts me for trivial things with hopes of my mind having changed. It hasn't. It won't.

Although I hurt, I cry, I have not once felt an urge to return to the battleground that was my marriage. It took me so long to step away from the war. Going back would be purely damaging. I wish Chris would realize that we were in a toxic relationship.

He won't. If there were a picture beside the word content in the dictionary, Christopher would take the cake. That man is fully content as long as his needs are being met. I would hate to paint anyone as selfish. But, I find myself at a loss for descriptive words aside from self-absorbed.

Too many times, our life revolved around my husband's wants. His needs were our soul focus. It never mattered what came between reality and his expectations. He always prioritized himself.

Not that I wanted to be the center of his universe, I didn't. I just wanted to feel like my existence was necessary and appreciated. The gas lighting was the most extensive form of betrayal. If ever I chose to bring my necessities to the fore front, a fight would ensue. I was stifled and silenced until I would smile and agree that his way was best.

I don't ever want to feel that way again.

Looking down at my day's work, I feel satisfied. The bride and groom will be happy. Aside from the small artistic freedoms I took, this cake looks just like the magazine. I carefully place the cake in its box until it is transported to the venue. Dillon is extremely good at setting up. That is one thing I will never have to worry over.

Cleaning up, I move towards the appetizers. Most are cooked and ready to be plated. I work quickly to get everything prepared to be taken across town. The last finishing touches to the eclairs are almost set. God knows, if you move them while they are still warm, you might as well trash them completely.

I set one to the side for Rex. I promised. I would never disappoint my newest friend. Rex is going to die when he lets this pastry melt on his tongue. They all do.

Before closing up, I help Dillon load the van. Once we check everything off of the list, I grab the eclair along with the piece of key lime pie I made this morning. That one is for Vance. I want to impress him.

I feel like too often, I am a split second from pushing Vance too far. I notice the way his blood pressure rises when I answer Christopher's phone calls. I see how deeply Vance's worry over me settles into his bones. The man really does believe I am as fragile as the China Doll he has nick named me after. Maybe I am.

Waving Dillon away, I blow the kid a kiss. Dillon is a precious young man. His girlfriend, Lisa, is very lucky. Dillon will never be Christopher. He is far more likely to turn out like Finn or Vance. Although, he seems to have a small trace of Rex deep down. All in all, he is just a catch.

Tiredly, I slip into my SUV, enjoying the soft seat after a full day of being on my feet. Who knew cooking could be so exhausting. I did. Yet, here I am as shocked as ever at the end of each long day.

A quick stop at the liquor store replenishes my alcohol stash. I am by no means a heavy drinker. I like to know that if the need arises, I won't have to run to the store. I take an extra moment to go by and pick up my groceries. This curbside service is a life saver. We all know I am not big on shopping. That goes across the board.

Within minutes, I find myself staring at my home. I excitedly make the short trip from the car to my door. The space behind the door is quiet, reminding me that I'm alone. I know I won't be for long. Vance told me he doesn't mind hearing from me. I get the distinct impression that he likes my presence.

That's a hard pill to swallow. Mostly, I don't find others to enjoy being around me unless they have a need that I can fulfill. It's not that I mind. You get used to it. However, it is also nice for your company to be enough.

After putting away my spoils, I head towards the shower. My body instantly relaxes as hot water cascades down over my flesh. The exfoliant scrubs away at my skin making everything smother to the touch. The scent of my conditioner chases the steam around the shower. I take my time to shave all of the important areas before rinsing out my hair.

Once I am satisfied with the condition of my newly cleaned body, I turn the water off before exiting. I have Alexa play my music so I can get ready while I wait for Vance. It's these quieter times that you realize how much you have given up in your search to be the perfect mate. Long showers, pampering and alone time had slowly transformed into quick showers, neglect and days filled with pleasing my significant other. I can't blame Christopher for those. That was all me. My search for perfection in my marriage led me to a place of putting my husband before myself. I am an intelligent woman. No relationship can thrive when one partner is withering in order to keep the other fully watered.

Slipping into my yoga pants and T-Shirt, I look in the mirror. I see a new me. The stress is still there. However, it's manageable in most moments. I see a light in my eyes, excitement maybe. Most of all, under the mask of who I have been for so long, someone I think I recognize is beginning to emerge. It's baby steps. Maybe that is all it will ever be. Progress is progress so I will take that.

With coffee in hand, I sit down to relax knowing that I have met my responsibilities for the day. I check my email really quick, forwarding anything important to Krista, my assistant. I send Dillon the delivery schedule for tomorrow. With a flick of my wrist, the television pulls Netflix up for me. Plundering the channels, I settle on Criminal Minds.

That sexy man, Spencer, begins the episode by running through the un-sub's life history. Immediately, I am drawn into a world where evil is far more apparent to the naked eye than it often is in reality. My heart thumps erratically with every change of atmosphere. My hands grip my coffee cup tightly as Reid makes clinical observations, unveiling the disturbed mind of the un-sub. I am completely absorbed by the crime drama.

My phone buzzes, I don't bother picking it up, instead choosing to enjoy this moment that I have set aside for myself. Again, again and again the messages light my screen. Knowing that it is not Vance, I don't reach for it. Vance has an assigned ringtone for moments exactly such as this. I leave whoever it is to find patience while I find a sliver of peace within my own world.

As the scenes fly by, revealing a darkness many are too afraid of to admit is real, I stretch myself along the length of my couch. My blanket gently slips from the back of the couch, covering me in a false security. I watch intently, listening to my favorite part of any episode of this show. The end quote is my most prized possession after witnessing an hour of murder and sadness.

"Guilt is perhaps the most painful companion of death" - Coco Chanel

The designer's words play in my head, rolling off of my tongue on repeat.

Am I willing to take this guilt, over my marriage, to my grave?

If not, how far am I willing to carry the guilt? How much am I willing to sacrifice?

I need to let this go. I need to forgive myself and Christopher. I am literally free. The only thing that I seek to gain from continuing to carry this is a lifetime of servitude to pain.

Knowing that I have a responsibility to release myself from this burden, I get up. I put my coffee cup in the sink before returning to see why my phone lit up with so many continuous messages. Snatching my iPhone, I roll my eyes at the name that sits on the screen.

I have to end this. Enough is enough. This has gotten beyond rationality.

Giving myself a few moments of composure, I talk myself through everything that needs to be said. It's time. I can do this.

Pacing, I open the messaging app to gain the courage to make the call. Hopefully, the final call. My fingers twitch, with shaking hands, as I open the first of six messages.

Words, sentences and paragraphs fill my screen. I barely glance at them. A knock at the door startles me in my darkening moment.

Relief floods through me knowing that Vance will give me strength to handle this. I walk slowly to the door with a smile playing on the corner of my lips. The messages are momentarily forgotten as I open the door to greet the man who has found a way to be my pillar of strength.

"You didn't answer my texts."

My heart shatters upon sight.

I'm not sure I can do this.