I have had to rewrite this multiple different times now, as I keep breaking down. I don’t know what to do, and I am completely lost. So apologies for any spelling errors or mistakes, as I’m not in the best place mentally. Note that all names are fake so that he doesn’t find this hopefully.
Now a little back story (I promise it will make sense). 9 years ago I met my boyfriend, Adrian. I was in 9th grade, and he was in 11th. He had moved in next door, and because we were to close for busses, but to far to walk, he offered to drive me every day. Even after graduating he drove me. We got really close, and he became my best friend. We started dating 5 years ago.
At that time, I began writing my first story, and Adrian’s mom, as an author herself, began helping me. Together we wrote, edited, and got my book ready to publish. Then, in 2019, she passed away unexpectedly. Everyone was distraught, and I decided not to publish the book. Instead, I pushed myself more into work. Working 16 hour days. And up until a year ago, I continued to do this. Adrian and I bought a little duplex and moved in together we rented the other half of it to a friend of his. Now, I’ve been getting into writing again and have cut back to working 12 hours a day.
Over the course of the last decade, I’ve been buying books. I’ve spent a good 3000 on books, and have like 175 ove bought myself at this point. I have another 50 that I got from his mom before she passed and also left in the will for me, and then a handful from friends over the years. Last time I went through them, I had 300 books. Now I know this might seem intense, but I have read almost every single one of these. Whenever I get a chance at work, when I have a day off, when I can’t sleep, I read. Reading is the way I cope, I guess.
Adrian knows how important my books are. He knows how much time, money, and energy I’ve put into getting them all and keeping them looking good. He himself has read a good bit of them and helps me take care of them.
Last week we got into an argument. I don’t remember what it was about, just that it lasted from the time I get off, until almost noon. So at the least it lasted 7 hours. Most of it was him screaming at me. I don’t know if I fell asleep or what but I genuinely don’t remember any of it. However it did end with him storming out of the house, and leaving.
I spent the rest of the day in a haze, and immediately I went to the spare room and started reading. It wasn’t until he came in an hour before I had to leave for work, that I stopped reading.
When I got off work the next mourning, I immediately went home, took a shower, and fell asleep. I woke up to the fire alarm going off, and my husband frantically running around, trying to get them to stop. Immediately I went into the spare room to see if everything was okay.
My books- specifically the shelf that had been gifted to me- were smoking, some of them were on the floor. I asked him what had happened, and apperantly he was playing with this new flame torch lighter, when it caught one of my books on fire. It was on the top shelf, so while it wasn’t too bad and he was able to get them out, there was a few books (the ones he through on the floor). I asked him what book caught on fire, and he didn’t respond, instead he just teared up and pointed.
On the ground was the book his mom and I wrote together.
I lost it. I asked him to leave, and when he tried to refuse, I threatened to call the police. It took 5 minutes of us arguing before I burst into tears and he finally left.
It’s been almost a week now. I haven’t responded to him at all. I changed the locks on the house, and even informed his friends that if they let him into my part of the house, I’d have all of them arrested.
Last night, his father called me. We talked and while he said that he understood why I was hurt, he thought I should let Adrien come back and try to fix it.
I don’t know if I can though. I don’t know if I can trust him. I don’t know what to do, and I just need advice