Our feelings grew stronger with every passing day. Even though we found ourselves arguing sometimes, it didn’t hinder how I felt about him.

After one particularly bad fight that had ended with him storming out of my house and tearing down my driveway, the cold reality that he could leave me finally registered with me. It knocked me over with the force of a ton of bricks. If he left me, I’d have no one. No other man had ever shown any interest in me, and I realized I’d be all alone again. I’d go back to being an unwanted freak.

The next day, I begged for his forgiveness. I spent hours groveling before he finally accepted my apology. I hated that I was the one apologizing since he was the one who had started the argument the evening before, but I ignored that little voice in my head, too relieved that I wasn’t going to lose him.

Things moved quickly for us after I graduated from high school. Less than a month after I had been handed my diploma, I had an engagement ring on my finger. Six months after that, when I was only a few months over eighteen, I was walking down the aisle and saying, “I do,” to the one and only man who had ever paid an ounce of attention to me.

Joey and I had both come from lower-class families, so neither of us could afford to go to college after high school. Joey continued working in construction, which brought in a decent income. I attended a technical school during high school, and I was certified as a medical assistant upon graduation from high school. I found a job working at a doctor’s office, but I was miserable.

Instead of using the skills I’d acquired through school, I decided to help my dad with his business. He did body work and repairs on cars. His business had grown quite a bit over the last few years, and it was hard for him to handle everything, so I took over the paperwork and customer service portion of the work.

Neither Joey nor I were rich, but with our combined incomes, we managed to pay the bills and even put a little bit into savings each month. We were living the typical American lifestyle.

Two years after I’d become his wife, Joey and I marked off another milestone in our life together. I found out I was pregnant. I was terrified. I was only twenty years old, far too young to be a mother, in my opinion. Joey was ecstatic. Soon, his elation started to rub off on me, and I became excited, too.

But that was when things began to change between us. It was small things at first—bickering over bills or what television show to watch. I blamed my hormones as our child grew within me. At times, I would become so annoyed with Joey that we wouldn’t talk to each other for days at a time.

Just when I felt like things were at a breaking point between us, our daughter came into the world. She arrived on a Tuesday at three o’clock in the morning, kicking and screaming like a banshee. Amelia Kathryn Sanders weighed seven pounds, six ounces. She was beautiful and healthy. I instantly fell in love with her. It was amazing how something so tiny could steal my heart with only one glance.

Amelia came home, and amazingly enough, she brought peace with her. For the next few months, things settled between Joey and me. We were even kind to each other, rarely fighting, which was the complete opposite of how we had been before Amelia was born. Yes, for those few short months, things were peaceful. I was happy, content even.

But, as they said, all good things must come to an end. I’d been battling with postpartum depression since Amelia was born, but it was manageable since things were so good with Joey. That ended abruptly. It was as if a switch had been flipped overnight, and suddenly, we were fighting again. Sometimes, things would get violent. I would smack him, or he would grab my keys or my phone and throw them out of reach to keep me from leaving him or calling my parents. The relationship I had clung to so hard was slowly destroying me.

Our relationship got worse and worse until I felt like I would never see the light again. My depression worsened until I was forced to visit my doctor. He increased my medication and scheduled several consecutive appointments because he was concerned that I was headed into suicidal territory.

The fighting between Joey and me intensified. We’d have screaming matches over the littlest things. He became controlling. If he came home at night and there was even one dirty bottle or soiled diaper in view, he would freak out. He began making rules that I would have to follow, like I was no longer allowed to eat anywhere but in the kitchen. He also threw out all the junk food in the house, telling me it was time I lost the weight I’d gained while pregnant with Amelia.

Still, no matter how depressed I was, I couldn’t bring myself to leave him. It wasn’t only out of fear of being alone anymore even though that was a big part of it. I admitted to myself that I was weak for clinging to a dying relationship because I didn’t want to be on my own. I had always been weak. My low self-esteem had been a major factor in that weakness, and it was even worse now.

If I left him, I was sure I’d be alone. No one had wanted me before, so certainly, no one would want me after I’d had a child. I had stretch marks. My clothes usually had at least a tiny bit of spit-up on them. I rarely wore makeup anymore, and my hair was almost always tied up into a bun on the top of my head. I certainly wasn’t going to win any mental health or beauty awards in the near future.

The main reason I couldn’t leave Joey was because of Amelia. I didn’t want her to grow up in a broken home, seeing her father only a few times a week or a month in the way that so many children did. No, I wanted her to see us together. I wanted her to feel like she had a family she could depend on. Even though she was only an infant, I knew she would grow up faster than I could ever imagine. I wanted her childhood to be filled with happy memories of her mother and father, together. As long as we could hide our fighting from her, I was sure she would have those memories.

The man I’d once worshipped became my greatest enemy. To dull the ache in my heart and the darkness clouding my mind, I started to drink, something I’d never even been tempted to do before. I began smoking as well. I looked forward to every cigarette because it would give me an excuse to escape outside for a few minutes.

Joey noticed my drinking but made no move to stop it. In fact, he encouraged it. Maybe it was because we wouldn’t fight as much when I drank, or maybe it was because he was almost always guaranteed sex when I was drunk, something that he usually received very little of since we fought so much. Either way, my drinking settled things between us. The fighting lessened as long as I had a drink in my hand. I would wait until Amelia was asleep in her crib before I would start. Joey, despite his personality issues, was an amazing father, and he’d take care of her if she woke up at night.

And so our lives went. Things settled, and I accepted the way things were between us.

Then, something changed again.

And it was the start of this story, the real story, the one where I fell in love with another man.

I skimmed over my News Feed again, rolling my eyes, as I read a bitchy status from a girl I’d gone to high school with. Actually, it seemed like just about everyone online had something to bitch about tonight.

I peeled my eyes from my phone long enough to take a sip of my cranberry vodka before returning to the boredom that was my life. After rolling my eyes at a few more status updates, I stopped on a meme with a dog wearing sunglasses. I laughed as I read the text and then scrolled back up to see who had posted it. I was surprised to see that it was Ethan Blake. I hadn’t spoken to him in years.