Aaron was gulping down his anger with cheap vodka, hiding from the world to drown in his self-induced sorrows. It was a routine, at times – fighting then drinking, drinking then fighting. It was as if he wanted it to happen. Today was no different, and the tears that ran down my face were a testament to how the day had gone. I had been beaten down by resentment; disgraced for having an opinion. I knew, at this moment, he hated me. And yet, I loved him. Don’t ask me how or why, but I did, and I wanted to marry him for some god-forsaken reason.
We had been together for over two years, and I felt it was time to make that commitment.