Entry 39: Eggshells

The fight had unnerved me, causing me to question everything. The wedding was close, and everyone around us was excited as they were invested, which only added to the pressure I already felt.

It had taken some time for S. to admit he'd been in the wrong, though I still wasn't sure if he'd truly been aware of the magnitude of his actions. He eventually apologized to me and to my best friend, to which she responded, "I know you'll do better." She was six years older than me and had always been super protective.

I told myself once again that his behaviour had been a one-off. Plus I loved him and wasn't ready to walk away after only two fights, no matter how bad they'd been. So I headed down the aisle and became a wife again, this time with a four in front of my age.

The wedding day itself was everything I'd dreamed of, and it had been a perfect reflection of who I'd become and who we'd become together. Our guests referred to the day as a "lovefest," telling us how it had been one of the best weddings they'd ever been to, and I had to agree. It had been perfect.

When we woke up the next morning as husband and wife, we both commented on how much deeper our relationship now felt. Though part of me still felt a little unsettled at the thought of being legally locked into a relationship, I reminded myself that this time the cage door remained open.

We headed on our honeymoon to Europe, giving S. an opportunity to meet some of my family. But first, we had a week alone, and we were making the most of it. One night, we headed to a club that one of S.'s friends recommended. As soon as we entered, I was immediately uncomfortable. It wasn't just the Devil theme that had made me uneasy, but the crowd itself. We stuck around for about an hour before S. asked if I was ready to go. "Yes," I said quickly, making my way to the entrance. When we got outside, I commented how I hadn't felt safe, and then I added, "It feels like the type of place you might get stabbed."

I hadn't thought anything of my comment as we headed in a taxi to our next destination, a rooftop bar down the street. However, as soon as S. grabbed our drinks, I could tell he was off. "What's wrong?" I asked. Suddenly he began yelling at me, but thankfully the music was loud enough that people couldn't hear the fight. They could only see it. He'd taken offense to my criticism of the club, seeing it as a slight towards him and his friends. "No, I promise you that's not what I meant," I said, trying to diffuse the situation, but S. was triggered, and no matter what I said, he wasn't calming down.

I looked around at the packed bar and all the couples having fun together, as my partner tore a strip off me. It felt like it went on forever, and I couldn't breathe. All I wanted to do was leave S. standing in his own rage and get back to the safety of the hotel. I'd never been yelled at this much before, and the concerning part was that S. seemed to think it was okay. I'd made a mistake. I knew that now. The eggshells had returned, and this time it was with a vengeance.