Slight warning: mention of self harm (just talking about it, no acting upon it.) (but no description of it)

Estelle sat on her-- their-- bed silently, a shaky hand running through her hair.

Why in the hell am I even thinking this?! She screamed to herself, though not aloud. You know why, she sighed, head dropping so that her eyes were cast downward. You can't let her hold you here-- she'll just keep hurting you and you'll be stuck to grin and bear it. She wanted to laugh at herself, find some sort of way to make herself sound so preposterous that her own overthinking mind would finally make a point to shove off.

You love her, Estelle felt this thought nearly become a murmur, but she pressed her lips tight together. I love her. She corrected, though mostly in hope. Don't I?

She glanced down at her left hand, eyes steadily trailing to her ring finger. The ring was beautiful: a symbol of their joining and hope and love.

But- the retort echoed in the crevices of the folds of her brain- even if you love her, it won't be enough. You won't be enough.

Estelle choked on air, fighting tears as she felt them form. She inhaled and exhaled deeply, keeping them at bay for the moment.

And if you leave, don'tsayitdon't, you know she'll relapse. Estelle exhaled harshly, air deflating from her chest. 'You divorcing me is like killing me,' Estelle frowned, trying to block the words from resurfacing.

No matter what West could ever do to her, she couldn't leave under that one final thread to hang on to.

I don't want to think about it, she tried to shake it off before she started to picture it. I can't let her get hurt by anyone, including herself. Especially herself. Estelle sighed, feeling a few of the held back tears beginning to spill over.

Do I stay, or do I go? Do I continue to make sure she's all right because I'm here, or do I start to think of myself?
Estelle didn't know the answer.

She sat there on the bed, silent tears pouring.

Her happiness or my own?