She didn’t understand why she had so many doubts; after all, Henry had been the safe and easy decision, the relationship she would never have to fight anyone for. However, sometimes she couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if things had gone differently. What would have happened if she had chosen her? What would have happened if Bette had chased her as she often thought she would? What if…

Fighting. That was the answer. Arguments and fights that would have inevitably led to a different course of action, a different universe where perhaps she would have been braver. 

The truth was, she couldn’t help the anger she felt every time the arguments between her and Henry ended in him giving up and trying to make her content enough to agree to have sex with him later. 

No, Henry didn’t understand, couldn’t understand her anger. He didn’t because his eyes looked at her but didn’t really see her. She hated him for that. She didn’t want to be with someone who would give in to her every single demand. The very idea of being in a relationship where one party systematically submitted to the other seemed unbearable to her. Yet there she was, living that reality and doing nothing to change it.

She yearned for a relationship that would push her to grow. She wanted someone who could put her in her place when her mind got out of control. She longed for someone firm and solid to keep her from drifting but tender enough to take her in her arms and make her feel at home, even when everything seemed to fall apart. She longed for a companion who would cross the perils of life alongside her with cloak and dagger, not someone who would sacrifice themselves absurdly, leaving her at the end of the tale with a lonely road and an annihilated prince (or princess). 

Objectively, she knew Henry’s intentions were good, and that, after all, was essentially what many people wanted in a relationship – not to overexert themselves in an argument. However, she had never found any nobility in sacrificing when there was no need to do so. It was, in every way, absurd. Such an act was akin to cutting off a completely healthy hand to make someone feel better about themselves; it simply doesn’t help anyone.