Demi

When Wilmer and I got home from therapy, the only word to describe the mood was awkward. I knew Wilmer was walking on eggshells, because he kept beginning to say something, but then thinking better of it and looking away.

"I can't do this." I sighed, once he did it for the fifth time. "Wilmer just say what you want to say."

"I don't know what to say." He murmured, looking at his hands. "I don't know what the right thing to say is."

"Just tell me what you're thinking."

Wilmer swallowed hard. "Can I... Can I read the letters you sent me?"

I bit my lip for a second, then sighed. "I'll read you one of them. The first one. We'll start from there."

"Okay."

I stood up and walked up to the master bedroom. In the closet, tucked in the corner, was a shoe box with all of the letters I wrote Wilmer in them. I took out the first one and turned it over in my hands, running my fingertips over the smooth paper. I sighed, hesitant now to read him the letter I had intended for his eyes only. Now that I would get to see his reaction, things seemed all the more real.

"You don't have to read it if you don't want to." Wilmer's voice sounded right behind me and I jumped, a startled gasp coming from my lips.

Slowly, I turned around and looked up at him. "I want to."

"Okay."

I took his hand and pulled him to the bed, tucking my legs underneath me as I slowly opened the sealed envelope. I glanced at him one more time and then took a deep breath, beginning to read.

Wilmer,

I know you don't want to hear from me. I know you don't want to read this, but it's my only sanity in here. I can't talk to my therapists about how much I miss you, because they only tell me to work on myself, to not think about you. They don't know that you permeate every ounce of my being. No one understands us, and they never have. All they think they understand is that we're married, and that you help me. They don't understand that you're my lifeline. My mind is so entangled around the thought of you that it can't be undone.

Tomorrow is visitation. I know you won't get this until after, but I need you to come. I need to see you and tell you how sorry I am. I need to make sure that when I get out of here that I still have my husband. That I still have someone to fall asleep next to. I don't think I've ever felt more lonely than my first night here. I woke up screaming, and they had to sedate me. They don't understand that it'll keep happening until you're the one there to wake me up and hold me until the demons go away.

They're telling me I have to go to lunch soon. They think I'm not eating enough, but it's mostly because every time I think of the look on your face when you asked me if I was still using, it makes me sick to my stomach.

I won't ever forget the look on your face, but I hope that you can forgive me for putting it there.

I love you with every inch of my soul,

Demi

I was crying by the time I finished reading it to him, my voice cracking on the last few words. I slowly folded the letter back up and slipped it into the envelope before looking at Wilmer.

The moment my eyes met his, he leaned forward, pushing the envelope away from us as he pulled me into his arms. I sobbed once, and pressed my forehead against his chest, more tears rushing from my eyes.

"I'm so sorry." He murmured, laying back on the bed and pulling me with him. "I'm so sorry Demi. I'm so sorry."

For a moment I allowed myself to let go of the past, let go of all the pain he had caused me. I wormed closer to him, fisting his shirt in my hands as I sobbed into his neck.

"I'm so sorry." He said again, rubbing my back and kissing my hair. "I didn't mean any of this."

~*~

When we ate dinner that night it was totally silent. Only the clinking of our forks and knives against the plates filled the room. I mostly pushed my food around my plate. Reading that letter was bringing back memories of the things he had done to hurt me, and I was having more doubts about us being able to make it again.

I knew Wilmer was on edge. He kept glancing at me when he thought I wouldn't notice, but I just stared down at the food. Once the time we'd spent sitting at the table reached the hour mark, I stood up and took both of our plates, scraping them clean before I began to was them. When I started to dry my hands, I felt Wilmer's hands touch my hips and he slowly turned me around, my eyes widening at the closeness of our bodies.

"Talk to me." He murmured, his hand coming up to touch my cheek. "Tell me what you're thinking."

"I don't want to talk." I sighed. "I don't know what to say."

Wilmer's eyebrows knitted together and he tilted his head. "Just say what you want me to do."

I leaned back against the counter and reached up, running my hand through his hair. "I haven't decided what I want to do yet."

He nodded, and I saw his eyes flicker to my lips. The next moment, he began to lean down but just before our mouth could touch I turned so his lips pressed against my cheek.

"I'm sorry." I breathed, pushing his chest slightly and stepping out from his arms. "I can't."

~*~

Wilmer

It wasn't the first night I'd slept alone, but it was definitely the hardest. After I tried to kiss her, Demi barely even looked at me for the rest of the night.

I had walked upstairs, and caught her standing in the closet in a pair of sweatpants and a tank top, looking in the mirror as she rubbed her stomach gently. I knew we were both wondering what it would look like when it swelled with the growth of our baby. Her eyes met mine after a few seconds, and she yanked her shirt over her stomach, and shut the door in front of me. I leaned against the wood for a few seconds, then pushed off, sighing heavily as I walked to the guest bedroom.

As I laid in bed, I just watched the numbers on the clock slowly tick by. Around three am, I couldn't take it anymore.

I got up, and walked in my boxers to the master bedroom. I silently opened the door and looked in. Demi had a candle burning on her nightstand, so it cast a flickering glow over the room. I stepped in, and walked over to the bed, gingerly sitting down on the edge and looking down at her face.

Asleep, she looked just like the Demi from my wedding day. She had stopped dying her hair, and now just let her brown locks hang in soft curls that reached her shoulders. In two years, she had stopped religiously working out, so her once hard muscles that I loved had softened into gentle curves that I adored just as much.

Up close though, you could see the strain I had put her through. Deep, dark circles had formed under her eyes, and her cheeks had lost her usual glow. She had tear tracks running down her cheeks and my head ached when I saw her swollen eyes.

I wish that I could take it all back. I wish that I could somehow go back and force myself to go see her, to come when she asked me to, to be there for her like I promised.

A part of me wondered if I wished that I never met her; so I could've spared both of us this pain.

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-Rachel