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She wakes up in the morning and feels the guilt, weighing down on her and crushing her lungs. It’s not that she regrets sleeping with Colin, no, she thinks that might’ve been one of the best decisions she’s made all year. There’s a difference between guilt and regret. Guilt, because she knows that what she did was wrong. But no regret because while what she did might have been wrong, she enjoyed herself regardless. The real issue is that not even a full year ago, she made a promise, she took a vow to be loyal and true and it was all for nothing. And the worst part? She’s not even surprised. She really should’ve seen it coming. No, she could’ve seen it coming.
She stares up at the ceiling, forcing her breath in and out in brittle inhales and exhales, lying as still as possible, as if the entire scene will come falling down if she dares move an inch. She wonders if he’s awake, but before she can check he inhales deeply, the first breath of the morning, and she knows he must be too.
She sits up and wraps the sheet around her as tightly as humanly possible. She doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t want to say anything. There’s a sick sort of comfort in this silence, she finds. Like some sort of reckoning. They both know this was a bad decision, that this makes them bad people. But it’s somehow better when they don’t try to rationalize it. Sometimes it’s just better to accept yourself for what you are, rather than lie. Because a lie you tell to yourself is the worst kind. You tell it to yourself enough times and you might just start to believe it. Then the foundation starts cracking. It chips away piece by piece, one by one, until the truth comes flooding back in and you have no other choice but to accept it. That’s how she ends up making decisions like this one. Bad ones. Not ones that she regrets, no, most decisions made by her bring her somewhere, get her something, give her a leg up on someone, but bad ones nonetheless.
He moves first, presses a kiss to her bare shoulder. They get dressed in still silence and she knows he’s come to the same conclusions she has.
It’s nicer that way. Being on the same page as someone at all times.
She stares at herself in the mirror, barely recognizing herself. Conscience is a bitch, she’ll tell you. But she has to get ready, she reminds herself. It’s time to put the walls back up and to brace herself for another day of being the bad guy all because she married a man who has different sensibilities. He just doesn’t get it. Never has and never will. She has responsibilities, he knew that when he married her. And if he can’t accept that, then that’s that. By the time she looks back in the mirror, her lipstick is smudged and her foundation uneven. It’s then that she realizes that her hand’s been trembling the whole time. She sees Colin looking at her from over her shoulder, and if she didn’t know any better she’d think he was concerned. But he doesn’t say anything, probably having come to the conclusion that she thinks addressing it would only make it work. And he’d be right. Of course he would.
So she skips the makeup. It’s early enough that she doesn’t need it anyway. Besides, no one’ll ask any questions. Because it’s a perfectly normal human being thing to do. Even if she doesn’t feel normal right now. A hot, fat tear rolls down her cheek and she hastily wipes it away, because this is not the time and this is not the place. And before she knows it, she’s sinking to the ground and Colin is rushing to her side, catching her and wrapping his arms around her and they’re suddenly on the bathroom floor, cold tile digging into her legs, hard against her knees as she sobs into his shoulder, gasping in breaths. He doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t have to. He just holds her to him and lets her get tears all over the yoke of his shirt. And it’s what she needs right now. The kind of unspoken understanding that occurs naturally between the two of them. The kind that lets her cry angry tears without having to explain why.
She doesn’t want to go back. Doesn’t want to have to face Liam again. She can’t do it, she can’t look at him. She’s tired of it. She has a responsibility to her family, to watch out for them, to make sure they stay protected no matter what. She might have failed Steven but she won’t fail the rest of them. And Liam will never understand that. His family is… Well, his family. But just because he has no issue shedding himself of the Van Kirk name, doesn’t mean that she’s going to let go of her’s that easily. All that she asks for is patience and understanding. But he cannot, rather, will not, extend those to her. Because he doesn’t understand and never will. That she is not the bad guy for doing what she has to. That this is her one and only duty to the Carrington name. That she is the one who’s had to pick up the pieces ever since she returned from Paris and left part of herself there.
Colin doesn’t understand this either, simply because he doesn’t know. But that’s the thing. That’s the difference. He doesn’t stick his nose into places it doesn’t belong. He understands that some things are just the way they are. Liam doesn’t. Liam is forgiving, but never understanding. And maybe she’s tired of having to apologize. Because as forgiving as he may be, he is equally stubborn. To a fault. It’s one of the only things they share. But if Liam pulls, and she pulls, they have no choice but to either let go or to get flung into orbit. And by now, there’s nothing she can do. Or, nothing she really can do other than what she’s already done.
She wonders how long she’s silently resented her own husband. How long she’s been keeping this stewing inside of her. After all, a person can only pretend for so long. And she starts to ask herself if it was all on purpose, if her ‘mistakes’ were ever mistakes. If they were maybe conscious and deliberate attempts at sabotage. Her questions, however, do not receive an answer, because deep down she already knows them. She knots her fist into Colin’s shirt, hands trembling as she shuts her eyes as tight as humanly possible, praying for the sobs to stop coming, to stop tearing her apart from the inside.
She’s tired of being the bad guy in her own home.
So she falls back into bed with Colin, time and time again, because that, she thinks, is what grounds her the most. That is where she feels the most alive. Most days, she feels like she’s running on autopilot, and next thing she knows, she’s being pulled back down to earth by soft sheets, wandering hands, and hot breath against her skin. And it feels good. It always does. That might be the worst part she thinks, that she doesn’t feel sorry.
And every time, she tells herself that this is the time she’ll get it right, that she won’t lie to Colin, not him. If she’s being honest, she thinks that he couldn’t care less whether or not she did. They’re alike in that regard, they both know how the world works, sometimes you have to lie to get what you want. But the fact that he wouldn’t even care if she lied to him somehow makes it better. This is the one she won’t lie to, but even if she messes up, which she’s bound to do, it’ll all be okay.
Yeah. It’ll all be okay. She doesn’t have to worry about being the bad guy for making a decision the other doesn’t approve of. Because he’d make the same decisions she does. They’d both be perfectly content being the bad guy. And if she’s going to be stuck with someone for the rest of her life, she’d rather it be with someone who understands. So she makes her bad decisions, over and over and over again, and every time, she feels the guilt start to wane.