What would you do if you saw your significant other holding hands with someone else at a restaurant? Someone who isn’t family?
That’s the dilemma my protagonist, Celine Monroe, faces in my work-in-progress novel, Love At the Mayo. Although Celine and her boyfriend’s relationship is on life support, she still feels betrayed, confused, and hurt. Here’s an excerpt:
“I looked up at the restaurant window. His dark hair caught my eye. He reached across the table to hold the hand of a woman in a low-cut, cherry red blouse, probably a body suit. I took a step closer. One of the receptionist from his office.”
Jordan blindsided her. He’s a workaholic, not a cheater, she always thought, especially since she’s done everything he asked of her. Now, she feels like everything normal has flatlined. As a fellow workaholic, she invested her time and energy into her career and Jordan. Most of the time, the two investments were so enmeshed, they felt like the same.
Her options feel limited. She had neglected unpatched holes in other relationships and now living with the consequences. Rebuilding her life will be costly.
Resilient, Celine picks herself up and goes on a healing journey. She slows down to face herself, work on strained family relationships, and address her disillusionment with God.
But as issues with Jordan escalate and she faces overwhelming pain, she’s tempted to stay stuck in bitterness, blinded by her own shame. The price of healing and freedom feels too high. She doesn’t want to give up much of what she worked so hard for. Yet, if she doesn’t, she risks being shackled to her past and unable to embrace a better life, including a stab at love.
I’ve faced a similar crossroads about seven years ago. I was stuck in an unhealthy relationship dynamic, living on neutral. I did whatever I could to survive and get through the day. I was miserable, loathing my life and the choices I made that led me to this place. I didn’t know how I to get out.
But I had an unexpected intervention. I spent three months in another state, away from this relationship. I experienced healing. When I returned, I vowed to not lose the peace I had gained. Within six months, I moved out, determined to re-build my life day by day.
I shed a lake of tears as I faced the pain I had run from. I had neglected my family, close friends, and most of all, my emotional wellbeing. It hurt to see what I had sacrificed on the altar of co-dependency. But I felt spurred on as I experienced patches of healing. It was hard since my healing process took longer than I had expected.
While Celine also shares the same expectation of a quick recovery as she starts her healing journey, most aspects of her story differ from mine. And that makes her story fun to write and to share.
How about you? Have you experienced regret or deep pain from a past relationship?
(Next week, I’ll provide a glance into a potential love interest for Celine.)
Featured Photo by Yoann Boyer on Unsplash