"Those hardest to love
need it most."

  -  L. A. 

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Anisha smiled softly as her lips quivered. She was begging herself to hold it together, to not fall apart. There was something sad about heartbreak. Especially when she could feel her heart breaking, physically.

It was the question she'd asked herself over and over. She never found an answer to it though. No matter how many times she had asked herself that question, she could never truly answer it.

She could easily tell him that it was for Ryan and Mira. But that wasn't all there was to it. 

Sure, they acted like a perfectly happy and in love couple in front of their kids. She hadn't even been sure if it would be worthwhile to stay in a broken relationship just for her kids.

What kind of lesson about love and life would it give them?

Anisha tightened her hold on the chair, holding onto it for support. She wasn't even sure what to say. That's exactly what she told him.

"I don't know. I really don't know why I stayed." Anisha kept her gaze on the chair. She'd look down at her hands, the dining table, the floor. Everywhere but at him. Her voice was filled with regret, and acceptance. Acceptance of everything she had suffered and she had let herself suffer with. And regret, for staying as long as she had.

"How long did I leave you for? A month or two?" 

Something had always pulled her back to him. Even when she had thought about leaving, something always pulled her back.   

Now, it was emotionally draining for her. He was forcing her to think, to talk about things she'd pushed aside, things she no longer wanted to deal with. She was simply done, done with all of it. 

"I still remember the way Ryan stood in the doorway, refusing to come into my new apartment and instead." Anisha bit her lip, rolling her lower lip between her teeth. She glanced over to the clock and wanted nothing more than to sleep. To sleep and hide away from the pain and sadness the world seemed to throw at her. "Instead he had started screaming, and crying, and begging that he wanted me to come home. He was apologizing for you. He kept telling me that you were sorry. And that he was sorry. I think Ryan thought that it was his fault that I had left. And you have no idea how much that hurt– to watch him stand there and cry that he was sorry. And that he wanted me to come home."

"You said you were sorry. You said you'd changed. And you did. We were fine for two years and I forgave you. Everything was fine. God, I was happy. I was so fucking happy." Anisha fiddled with the the ring on her finger. She just wanted to take it off and forget about everything. 

"We were expecting our second child. I finally had what I had always wanted. It was the life I'd always dreamed about. Everything was perfect for me. And I used to think that fairytales existed for a reason. I used to believe that happy endings really did exist. And the way I felt back that, it sure felt like everything was perfect. It was my fairytale. It was my happily-ever-after."

But it hadn't been. Things had easily come crashing down for her. Some heavy wind had swept her fairtyale away. And pushed it far out of her reach. 

"But then, you fell back into the same pattern, the same mistakes all over again. Except this time, I had Mira and Ryan to think about. And somewhere along the lines, I still thought about you. Though the second time around, you broke me to the point where I don't think anything can fix me." That's how she got to where was today.

She gave people second chances, third even. She really tried to believe that people could change, and they deserved another chance to prove that. But perhaps, the biggest cause of her broken heart was that she'd always put others before she put herself. It was always about someone else before it was about herself. 

While doing so, she had ruined her own happiness. And broken her own heart. 

She had focused on trying to fix Andrew's broken heart. Because she had wanted him to be happy, because she didn't want to see him suffering. But she had broken her own heart while doing so.

And then, she stayed in a loveless, a hopeless marriage for the sake of her kids, of their happiness. But she had forgotten about her own happiness while doing do. 

"Yet, I still don't know why I stayed. I could've left. Sure, I was scared of being a single mother, I was scared of being all alone again. But still, here I am, married but alone." 

Anisha shrugged, finally looking at him, a small glance before she quickly looked away. She had avoided the question he'd asked. Instead, her answer ran around in circles, just like she had her entire life. She rubbed her nose. Her nose was stuffy, almost a little runny. Her eyes were red, but also dull. Her throat was scratchy and her voice was uneven. 

She felt sick. She was sick. 

Physically. And mentally. 

"I stayed because I didn't want to raise my kids to grow up in a broken family. I didn't want you to only see them on weekends or for a few weeks over the summer. I wanted you to be there, for them. I wanted to give them that. I tried to give them that." Anisha pinched bridge of her nose, almost in irritation.

She had done every single thing she possible could have to try and save her marriage. But it was all no use. The effort was never reciprocated. 

"Still, I could've figured it out. A lot of people get divorced and a lot of kids grow up in broken families. But they still grow up happy. Maybe a divorce would've been better. We should've been better off if we got a divorce. Don't you think?" 

Andrew's lips parted. And he froze. He couldn't formulate a single word or single response. His eyes kept dancing from the scars on her wrist to the wedding ring on her finger. Every few minutes, he'd run his own hand over his wrist. In a way, he was afraid to acknowledge what'd she'd done. What he'd done, to her. 

"No." Everything around him was jumbled, a mess that he'd made. "I don't want a divorce. We..."

A dry laugh escaped Anisha's lips. He didn't know anything, yet. He was sorry for the scars on her wrists. Yet, he had no idea how much she was suffering this very second.

He didn't know about the pills she had hid in her dresser. He didn't know about the doctor's appointments she had every Thursday. He didn't know about the pain in her stomach or the blood count that deathly low.

He knew nothing, absolutely nothing. 

"We'll make it work. You promise you will change. This time thing are going to be different. We're going to make it work." She smiled at him, her empty eyes staring back at him as she finished his sentence for him.

"Just the same shit every fucking time. Do you even want to know how many times I've heard that excuse, those same promises? And do you want to know how many times you've broken those promises?" 

"Anisha." His voice was strained. It was as though he was pleading with her to not give up. To hold on, just a little longer.

"Don't." She shook her head, repeatedly, loosening her grip on the chair. "Just don't." 

Anisha paused, almost as though she was begging for herself to hold it together, just a little longer. A few more minutes. She played with the ends of her hair, twirling her hair around with her hands. Her hair was thin, frail and dull, just like the rest of her. 

"More than anything, the real reason why I stayed was...was because I thought we could make it work. I thought that maybe we could really fix our marriage. I guess, I wanted to prove that I could. To everyone around us, but mostly to myself. I wanted to prove that you still loved me and you always would." 

Anisha didn't look at him. Instead, she had a faraway look in her eyes. Her breathing was a little slow. It had been and still was her biggest fear, that he'd leave her, he'd find better and leave her. 

"I just wanted to prove to everyone, to my mother, to you and most of all, to myself, I wanted to prove that we had something that would last. I wanted something that would last. I wanted that with you. And that's what I've been set on trying to prove, on trying to make happen. By staying with you, I don't know. Maybe I was trying to convince everyone else or I was just trying to fool myself into believing me that you loved me and you always would. That we would work out." 

Anisha smiled faintly, closing her eyes as a somber but calm aurora surrounded her. It was the essence of a woman who had suffered, and cried, and begged her entire life. It was a woman who had finally given up. 

After everything life had thrown at her, Anisha Hayes had finally given up.

"I didn't want to be alone, that's all there was to it. I've been scared of ending up alone. But I've always been alone. I just wanted to be loved, I just wanted you to love me. You said you would. You promised you would. And look how that turned out. I'm all alone, alone and unloved." 

"But I give up. I gave up a long time ago. Our marriage fell apart years ago. Nothing could have saved it. I couldn't save it." A mundane shade of gray surrounded her, surrounded the silence around them.

"Anisha, I..." 

Anisha pressed her hand against her forehead. She ignored his begging pleas as he repeated her name, waiting for her to look at him. 

Her face felt hot. It felt warm, too warm. She pushed the hair out of her face, gathering it into a messy ponytail.

"I'm tired. I need to sleep." Anisha ran her hand alongside her jaw, feeling her warm face. 

A fever, that was certain. 

She wondered if she needed to see the doctor. Her appointment was still on Thursday but a fever could be risky. Her immune system was too weak, even to fight something simple as a small fever. 

"Fuck Anisha, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Andrew quickly stood up, pushing his chair away. It was the only thing he could say, the only thing he could think of. "Fuck, I'm sorry. For lying, for cheating. For being a shitty husband. For everything." 

Perhaps, it was the fear of losing her that was speaking. But he just couldn't stop rambling. He stood up, looking at her, only her, as she shook her head and took a step back, almost as if she wanted to be nowhere near him. 

"Anisha, I...I'm sorry, for breaking your heart." He whispered, softly with a hint of heartbreak. 

Regret was the only thing he felt. It was expected though, after the many mistakes he had made, guilt was the only thing left for him to feel.

"Anisha, please. I... I just, after Cassie died. I couldn't..." His eyes were filled with desperation. He was silently pleading with her, to stay, just a little longer.

Instead, Anisha turned around, ready to go back upstairs to her room and sleep. She wanted to sleep, to block out everything else and just sleep.

Anisha paused and looked back at him, a small smile dancing on her lips. It was almost forlorn, she was miserable, miserable, miserable. She loved him but she also hated him, for making her miserable. 

"You mean after Cassie killed herself?" She raised an eyebrow. She wanted to hurt him. To make him feel the way he always made her feel. And he was. He was just as pathetic, stupid and miserable as she was. His state was pitiful, no better than hers. "Cassie killed herself. It was her choice to do whatever she did."

Anisha took a small step forward but there was quite a bit of distance between the two of them. A long string of distance.

She wanted to laugh at his pitiful state. And she also wanted to cry. 

She hated how things had to hurt so much. How the same things were tearing the both of them apart. 

She watched as he ran a hand through his hair, the corners of his lips twitching downwards.

"You, Andrew Hayes, are a coward. You're a fucking coward." She grabbed the first thing she could get her hands on, the pepper shaker and flung it at him. 

The small container hit the floor, shattering, falling near the counter, far from where he was standing.  

Why'd he have to break her heart? Why'd he have to hurt her, especially when all she had done was love him. 

"Fuck you." Her loud voice, her scream filled the house. "I hate you. I hate you so fucking much. I hate your sister. I hate your family. I hate your mistress. I hate every fucking thing about you." 

Anisha bit her lip, sobbing, wrapping her arms around herself as she fell apart. Her lips wouldn't stop trembling and she couldn't stop crying.

Her sobs got louder, louder and harsher. And she reached out to hold onto the chair again, her fingers grasping onto the chair for support. She closed her eyes, letting the tears stream down her face and the harsh sounds escape her lips.

She placed a hand over her mouth, trying to stop the painful sound of her cries. 

She could hear the footsteps, his footsteps echoing in the room. It was the only other sound, besides her pitiful sobs.

She sniveled, a harsh sniffle, sad and pathetic as he took small steps towards her. Almost cautiously, the extent of the damage he'd done was evident. The pain, the anguish, he'd given her was clear. All that was left of Anisha Hayes was a heart-broken and shattered woman, a woman he had destroyed by claiming to love. 

Andrew Hayes couldn't help the ache in his heart. The sorrow and distress that filled his heart was tearing apart at him. His heart ached, pangs of guilt, regret, sorrow, distress, and misery stung at him. 

His mistakes had caught up to him. And he'd lost, everything. 

Almost awkwardly, as though she was some stranger and not his wife, he reached out, trembling as he placed his hands around her waist and pulled her closer, against his chest. 

His arms slowly wrapped around her and he held her as though as she was fragile, almost breakable. His arms, held her steady, her thin and frail body comforted within his embrace.

And Anisha didn't say anything but she couldn't stop crying.

A part of her wanted to push him away, away forever. And then, she also wanted him to hold her. Just a little while longer. 

"I really hate you because I can't stop loving you. I don't fucking know how." Her voice was muffled, filled with the cracks and shatters of her broken heart. 

 She let the silence calm her down, everything was far beyond her reach. She was tired, really tired.

It wasn't the sleepy kind of tired anymore. No, it was more of the numb kind of tired. The kind of tired where she just didn't want to feel any sort of emotion, ever again. 

"I hate myself. For everything. Always, for everything. For never being enough. For always being the problem." 

Anisha closed her eyes, resting her head against him. His hold on her tightened. She could feel his warm breath against the nape of her neck. 

He was so close, yet so far away at the same time. 

It was always like this. It always as though everything she'd ever wanted– a happily-ever-after, a love that'd last, a husband that cared, it was always as though these things were always within reach for her. But the second, she'd reach for them, they'd be far beyond her grasp. 

"Andrew." She whispered his name, her voice was faint and weak. Anisha gently placed her hand on top of his, her back pressed against his chest. 

"Why do you hate me so much?" She asked, softly, almost afraid to know the answer. She played with the ring on his finger, the ring that clearly held no meaning for him.

Anisha didn't say anything. She waited, waited for an answer. 

She looked down at her bony hands placed on top of his and pulled away. 

He had every right to hate her, she knew that. 

Anisha pulled away, turning around to look back at him, leaving some distance between them, more than enough distance. 

His eyes were swollen. His hair was a mess. He looked tired, tired and old. Maybe because of the regret and worry accented his face. 

But it was far too late for him to do anything now. 

"God, fuck no Anisha. I don't. I don't hate you. I know it won't change anything. But I'm fucking sorry." His reached out, conflicted if he should pull her closer again or just let her be.

He was ready to beg, beg and plead. He was ready to do anything. 

He awkwardly ran his hand through his hair instead, pulling at the dark locks as she shook her head. She didn't want to be anywhere near him.

Anisha looked from to floor to him, her eyes glancing from the wooden cherry floor to the man who'd broken her. 

"But you broke my heart. You did that because you hate me." Her brown eyes were wide, a little innocent. They sparkled in pain, pain he'd given her. She chocked down a sob, her chest heaving. Her heart was being broken, all over again. 

"What did Amanda tell you?" Anisha looked away, her eyes darting around the kitchen. The cup of tea she'd made was left on the counter, cold and untouched. 

It didn't matter though. She didn't feel like eating or drinking anyway. She sucked on her lips, she could taste her tears. 

He certainly had no problem telling her that it was her fault that his sister was dead before. Why he was quiet now, she wasn't sure.

Anisha sighed. She placed a hand on her waist, squeezing the side as a sharp pain pierced her. It was as if something was pinching the insides of her stomach. The pain was sharp and it made her feel queasy.

She looked back at him, her voice barely audible.

"Do you blame me?" 

Andrew ran a hand through his hair, tugging on the dark brown strands. 

He didn't want to talk about his mistress or his dead sister.

"No, I don't Anisha. You already know that. I said things, a long time ago that I didn't mean and I apologized. I though we were past this."

They hadn't talked about his sister in years. He'd accused Anisha a few times, for not being able to save Cassie. But then he'd stopped blaming her and apologized.

Yet, he continued cheating.

 He took a small step towards her. 

His hand brushed the messy black hair away from her face. His eyebrows slanted in worry as he pressed his cool hand against her forehead, then her left cheek and then the nape of her neck. 

"Are you sick? Your face is kinda warm." His eyes fell on the purple bruise on her neck. "And this? You have a lot of bruises like this?"

That was what he wanted to talk about. The bruises, the pills that Ryan was asking about and the Hospital bills he'd found hidden under the sofa seats. 

Anisha looked up at him, his hand pressed against her face. He was merely inches from her. 

Dejectedly, she pushed him away and took a step back, creating even more space between them. 

She wanted to snort, to laugh, to scream at his pathetic behavior. He was acting like he cared. But she knew better. He didn't care, he never had.

And then, she wanted to cry. Cry, cry, cry. Why'd he have to care, now? Why now? 

"We aren't past this. Whether or not you admit it Andrew, you still do blame me. You can say you don't but you do. You do and it's real easy to notice that you still do."

Anisha looked at him, guilt-ridden for the first time. Her own dark secrets came to light.

"And you should Andrew. You have every right to blame me. It's my fault that she's even dead." 

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Next Chapter: 603 votes

On the last chapter, I got a lot of questions about when Anisha's going to die or if this book is almost done. And it'll be soon haha :) Everything since the last chapter is Anisha getting closure and her finally giving up. I posted this on my board and I'll leave it here: This is what's left of this story:

24 - Anisha and Mira
25 - Anisha and Ryan (This might be two chapters)
26 - Anisha and Sebastian
27 - Anisha tells Andrew about his sister
28 - Anisha tells Andrew about her illness
29 - Amanda's Chapters
30 - Anisha calls her mother
32 - Anisha's Last Doctor's Appointment
33 - Anisha Meets with Franco (Cassie's Ex)
34 - Andrew and Amanda (This might be two chapters)
35 - The Hospital
36 - Anisha Get's Worse
37 - Ending (One or Two Chapters idk)
38 - Anisha's End

Also, I know it's been a while but I've gotten a few reading requests and I haven't had time but I'll start reading soon :). I decided to make a second account and I'll do reading requests off that account. It's simbaze19. I honestly will read anything and everything. Grammar, spelling, all that doesn't bother me haha :)  I went through a lot of the comments on the authors note where I said if you wanted me to read your book to just let me know and I'll do them in order!