The Coach's Lie, My Final Truth

tion hung in the air, heavy and laced with a

devoid of emotion.

ts were clumsy, uncoordinated. "Leaving? Where are you goi

ed some space. We both do. To cool off. I'll drop off the house keys tomorrow." I reached into my pocket, pulli

bbed, a dull ache that reminded me of my broken body, my broken life. As I reached for the doo

orry. I'm so, so sorry." He pulled me into a tight embrace, his head burying into my shoulder. His breath smelle

me. His words were empty, meaningless. "Let go, Elliott," I said, my voice cold, d

. I promise. Just... just stay." He was trying to kiss my hair, my cheek.

ngth, born from pure revulsion, I pushed him back with all my might. He stumbled, ca

ing slightly in the face of shock. He opened his mouth, then closed it. He

ock behind me was the most freeing sound I had ever heard. I didn't wait to see if he would foll

lives unfolding around me. I felt utterly alone, a solitary figure adrift in a sea of indifferent humanity.

was the golden child, the one who had escaped the mundane, who had reached for the stars. My brot

g me even before I knocked. The thought of facing them, of explaining my shattered life

ed in surprise when she saw me. "Aria? What are you doing here? It's s

Mom. Just... passing throu

ing her hands on a dish towel. Her eyes, already narrowed, became slits when she saw me and m

e. Let me get you some water." She pushed a glass into my hand, her concern fleet

. Not yet. "I just... I need a place to

looking bewildered. A heavy silence settled in the room, thick with unspoken questions and unspoken resentme

u say you had a big early meeting tomorrow? And the kids have school." Her

"Aria, just for tonight, r

I confirmed, my vo

with indignation. My mother, sighing, pulled out a stack of blankets and a pillow,

back. You need to talk to him, make up. You don't want to regret this. A woman needs her husband." Her words were a familiar refrain, a song I had heard all my life. A woman's worth was in her marriage,

rgue, too defeated to fi

e sofa, the blankets doing little to ward off the chill that had seeped into my bones. My head began to throb again, a dull, insistent pa

regnant belly, flashing behind my eyelids. Hot tears streamed silently down my temples, soaking the pillow. I bit my lip, clenching my jaw,

d aching, my mind already racing. Where would I go? What would I do? My small savings account was dwindling, a paltry sum compared to