Ex-Husband's Regret



Emma.

I was in the kitchen having breakfast, but my food wouldn't go down easily. Every time I tried to swallow it would get stuck because of how nervous and anxious I was.

"Are you okay?" my mother asks when I finally give up and let the fork and knife drop from my hands.

"I don't know mom, I'm nervous," my voice sounds shaky even to my own ears.

God. What was I thinking? Was this even a good idea to begin with? Was I even ready for this or am I just trying to stall?

The questions keep pounding in my head as I look at my food in disgust. My appetite was severely lacking, and it's been that way for months, but today it's so much worse.

Mom grabs my hand in hers, before rubbing them gently. Her face softens as she looks at me.

"I know it's scary sweetheart, but you have to do this," she tells me gently with a small smile. "It's for your own good. You won't be able to move on until you heal your wounds."

I hear her. I know she's right, but that still doesn't make it easy.

Molly had left a couple of days ago, but not before booking me a therapy session. I'd already promised that I'd give it a try, so I couldn't back out now. I didn't want to disappoint her too. Not like I'd disappointed everyone else in my life.

"I'm just afraid I guess," I whisper, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall. "I'm afraid that my therapist will confirm just how much of a bad person I am."

Mom kisses my hand, and I find comfort in that. "Her work isn't to judge you, and she won't. Her work is to help you heal and that's what she'll do if you only let her."

Right now, I feel young again. I feel like the girl who would always run to her mother for reassurance when she was doubting herself or feeling insecure. I did love my dad. I love him so fucking much, and I miss him every day, but mom has always been my pillar.

"You're right, I'm just nervous" I sigh in contentment before lifting her hand and rubbing it against my cheeks.

She smiles at me, and even though it's genuine, I still see the sadness in them. I know she still feels horrible about how she treated Ava. Just like me, mom and Travis are battling their own regret.

Ava has refused to have anything to do with them. She doesn't want them in her life and has completely cut them off. I know it pains them, but I also don't know what to do to help them. Ava completely embraced her biological parents and left mom and Travis in the dirt.

"Maybe I'm not the only one who needs therapy," I softly suggest.

Clearing her throat, she pulls her hand away. "I don't know what you mean, Emma."

I release a sigh, not really surprised by her reaction. My mother is stubborn (guess I get that trait from her). She would never willingly accept that she needs helps.

"You know what am talking about, Mom. You need to talk things out with a therapist. You need to let go of the guilt and regrets you are holding to. You need this just as much as I do"

Her lips press in a firm line and she doesn't say anything. I don't push it. Maybe I will in a few days, but not right now. Guilt and regret are strong emotions. Ones that can freeze you in the past, refusing to let go of you. This family, the Sharp family, seems to have a lot of them. We all needed to heal.

Since I couldn't keep down the toast and eggs, I eat my banana and drink my coffee. When I'm done, I stand up, ready to leave.

"I'll get going" I say, then kiss my mother's cheeks. "I'll see you when I get back

"Okay, darling. Let me know how it goes."Belonging © NôvelDram/a.Org.

With a nod, I leave.

The drive to my appointment is a blur. My unseeing eyes stared outside while my thoughts continued to form a ruckus in my head. I was in turmoil and I felt numb

Nothing but guilt and regret registered in my head and heart. I didn't feel happy. I didn't feel sad. I didn't feel anything really, except those two fucking emotions. My heart was in shambles, so was my life. I just didn't know how to get myself out of this rut.

"Appointment for Emma Sharp," I tell the secretary once I'm inside.

She gives me a bright smile, but I find it hard to reciprocate.

"Right, just take a seat. Dr. Mia is just finishing up with another patient," she tells me kindly after checking her computer.

I nod my head and take a seat on one of the comfortable white leather seats. I wait patiently, not really sure if these sessions were going to help, or if it was already too late for redemption.