The Accidental Wife (Emily and Julian)

My fashion show is next week. I'm so nervous and insanely busy While I'm really excited that the world is about to see my new collection, I can't wait for the show to be over. I need a long break. I need to disconnect from the entire world. I think I need to take a few days

off on my own. I need to get away from everybody, especially from Silas.

But before getting away from him, I need to talk to him first. I have been postponing this conversation, but I have had enough. I have had enough of covering for him in front of our families. I have had enough of trying to find excuses for him. I have reached the point of no return and it's all because of him

There's nobody to blame for what I'm feeling except for him. He is the one behind all of this.Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

"Silas, we need to talk." He is in front of the TV in the living room, playing video games. At least he is not drunk. It's rare these days to find him sober. Silas needs professional help, but he is being stubborn.

"Can it wait?" he asks, without looking at me.

"No, it can't," I say, keeping my eyes glued to him.

"If this is about the dinner I missed with my parents, Rosie, I'm sorry." I want to laugh at his apology, because I know it means nothing. Another empty promise that means absolutely nothing.

"No, Silas. It's about us," I reply, feeling incredibly impatient that I end up turning off the TV. "It's not every day I see you sober." I don't want to throw any jabs at him, but maybe I need to do so.

"Don't you get bored of saying the same thing, Rosie?" He has the audacity to sound like he is fed up with me. He is the one who is fed up, not me! I'm the one who has been putting up with his bullshit for the past months, yet he dares to sound like bullshit. he is done with my

"I'm done with getting bored, Silas. I'm now sick and tired and what I'm trying to do is hold on the last bits of hope I have for this... this marriage." I think the last two words are strong enough to have an effect on him, because he looks at me in confusion. "This marriage? Are you talking about our marriage?" he asks, and I nod, taking a seat far from him. I don't want to sit by his side, and I don't want him to touch me. I need to keep my distance from him.

"Well, why would I mention anybody's marriage? Our marriage is the only one I'm currently concerned with," I reply, trying to appear cold even if I'm breaking from the inside. I want him to know that I have reached my breaking point,

"What's wrong with our marriage? Why are you talking about it like it's on the brink of falling?" He has the audacity to ask this question. I'm not sure if he is really oblivious or if he's just faking it.

"Are you seriously asking these questions, Silas? A lot of things are wrong with our marriage. Let's start with the fact that

alcoholic. you've turned into an alcoholic," I point out. The way he clenches his jaw doesn't escape my notice. He is in denial and doesn't want to admit that he has become an

"I'm not an alcoholic, Rosie." I look down and shake my head when he says that.

"You get drunk almost daily, Silas. Do you really need me to tell you how many times you've ended up getting drunk this week?" I tell him, causing him to look away.

"It's my way of coping," he defends his actions.

"And I'm done with this unhealthy way of coping. I'm done with you getting drunk in the middle of the day. I'm done with covering up for you in every family gathering you end up missing because you were too drunk to leave the house. I'm done with the self-pity you're drowning in. I can't do this anymore." Lay out all my cards. Sugarcoating how bad I'm feeling won't do our relationship any good.

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"Can't you be patient with me? I don't know what else to do until these ten months are over. I have never stayed away from football for that long and it's driving me insane." He starts with the same excuses, and I just shake my head, feeling incredibly tired of all of this shit. "It's not about me being patient, Silas. It's about what you're doing. You barely go out or talk to me or anyone else. You refuse to attend therapy. You have missed a lot of physiotherapy sessions which is setting back your date of return," I remind him of what he has been doing. "It's not like you're here." He rolls his eyes, and I sharply inhale.

"Actually, Silas, if you were sober enough, you'd have noticed that last week, I made sure to finish work by five every day and even took Saturday off. You were too drunk to notice, so don't try to gaslight me." I stand up, already feeling that this conversation is utterly useless. "What do you want, Rosie?" he asks in defeat, probably sensing how done I am. I hate that we've reached this stage, but this isn't my fault. I tried my best. He is the one who decided to give up on every single thing in life because of a setback.

"I want you to stop getting drunk. I want you to show up. I want my old husband back," I tell him bluntly what I want, hoping he'll understand what I'm feeling.

"I will try, Rosie, but I need time. You can't expect me to quit drinking right away," he tells me. I know that he cannot quit drinking immediately, but he can, at least, show me that he's trying.

"My fashion show is next Saturday, Silas. I think it's a good chance to show me that you're truly trying," I tell him, staring at his face for a moment, before going upstairs to our room.

I don't know if he's going to take what I have told him seriously or not, but I hope that he does. I'm not bluffing. I'm done with this version of him and I want to put an end to his alcohol problem. Next Saturday is going to be a decisive day. With just his actions, Silas is going to tell me what he wants.

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