Ernest House—Navigating Betrayal Before the Imminent Breakup

Now here I am in this obscure space between guilt and shamelessness for not feeling more than a slight ache, a selfish ache, an ache not even for him, but for myself who feels like those three years of her life have gone into the void with him. Being the only remaining witness of that life we shared is somehow a burden. Perhaps grief is really just a selfish thing.