Page 221 - It Ends with Us

I’m sor r y ab out that . I’m sure you di dn ’t miss me like I missed you, but

sometimes the thi ngs that mat ter to you most are al so the thi ngs that hu r t you
the most. And in orde r to get over that hu r t, you hav e to sever al l the extensions
that keep you tethe red to that pai n. You were an extension of my pai n, so I
guess that ’s what I was do ing. I was just tr ying to sav e myself a little bit of
ag ony.
I’m sure your sho w is as great as ever, tho ugh. I he ar you still dan ce at the

beginning of some episode s, but I’ve grown to ap preciat e that . I thi nk that ’s one
of the biggest signs a person has mat ured—k nowing ho w to ap preciat e thi ngs
that mat ter to othe rs, even if the y do n’t mat ter ver y much to you.
I sho uld probab ly cat ch you up on my life. My fat he r di ed. I’m twenty-four
now. I got a college de gree, worked in mar keting for a whi le, an d now I own my
own business. A floral sho p. Li fe goal s, FTW!
I al so hav e a hu sban d an d he isn’t Atlas .

And . . . I live in Bo ston.
I know. Sho cker.
The las t time I wrote to you, I was sixteen. I was in a real ly bad plac e an d I
was so wor ried about Atlas . I’m not wor ried ab out Atlas an ymore, but I am in
a real ly bad plac e right now. More so than the las t time I wrote to you.
I’m sor r y I do n’t seem to need to write to you whe n I’m in a good plac e. You

tend to only get the shi t end of my life, but that ’s what friends are for, right ?
I do n’t even know whe re to star t. I know you do n’t know an ythi ng ab out my
cur rent life or my hu sban d, R yle. Bu t the re’s thi s thi ng we do whe re one of us
say s “nak ed truth, ” an d the n we’re forced to be brutal ly ho nest an d say what
we’re real ly thi nking.
So . . . nak ed truth.
Br ac e yourself.

I am in love with a man who phy sical ly hu r ts me. Of al l people, I hav e no
ide a ho w I let myself get to thi s point.
The re were man y times growing up I wonde red what was going through my
mothe r’s he ad in the day s af ter my fat he r had hu r t he r. How she could possibly
love a man who had lai d hi s han ds on he r. A man who repeat edl y hi t he r.
Repeat edl y promised he would never do it ag ai n. Repeat edl y hi t he r ag ai n.

I hat e that I can empat hi ze with he r now.
I’ve been sitting on Atlas ’s couch for over four ho urs, wrestling with my
feelings. I can ’t get a grip on the m. I can ’t unde rstan d the m. I do n’t know ho w
to process the m. And true to my pas t, I real ized that may be I need to just get