Charlotte and Paul walked down the covered walkway, each with their own thoughts. They knew that their marriage could not continue without a commitment to change on both of their parts. So, they came to this paradise to try to reconnect!
She knew about his affairs. She had accepted some of the blame for his wanderings, for she was hell-bent on making senior partner in her law firm by age thirty-two, working sixty to eighty hours a week. But, there has to be a limit on what one will endure.
Paul smiled triumphantly, thinking, “The marriage will work, now. She understands that as long as I am her first priority, the job be damned, I won’t look for companionship elsewhere!”
Charlotte thought, “I refuse to be so desperate for a relationship that I will allow him to hold my emotions and my career as hostages. Just think, at the end of this beautiful walkway is my freedom.”
She would tell him of her decision when they were back in their hotel room. She had already booked her return flight home, alone.
Fictional story written for The Sunday Photo Fiction by Susan, with photo credit to Joy Pixley.
Aw, neither was very open to compromise for the sake of marriage, were they? Too often true, even if the story is fiction.
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I agree. Compromise seems a sign of weakness now, whereas it has been the backbone of cordial relationships. Now, it seems it’s my way or the highway. It’s sad. How can you have civility without compromise. Thanks for commenting and reading. It means so much to me.
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Neither is willing to work things out. How sad and how true for so many couples.
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I agree. Neither would compromise. Compromise now seems an ugly word, and that is a horror in a world where extreme feelings are now the loudest voices and get the most attention. Thank you for the comment. It meant a lot to me.
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At least she has clarity about what she wants – and he will get what he deserves perhaps.
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Thanks for the comment. Yes, sometimes you have to choose.
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Well written. It is sad when relationships break. But in a way it is always better to move on.
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