SethRollins's Guestbook

After hanging up on Seth, she held the phone just a little bit longer, in case he called back. She knew it wouldn't matter if he did. She was through. She knew he would never change. He didn't even think that the baby she is expecting is his. He thinks she cheats too, so she may as well. 

Valerie had no idea what to say. She knew Seth and knew that no matter what he said he would never change. 
She had heard it all before. She knew that the next chance he got it would be the next WWE female superstar or just a random fan.
"I wish I could believe you" she sighs on the other end of the line, "But I've heard it all before. Just know if it happens again, then I will consider cheating on you too. This baby that we have coming doesn't deserve this going on all the time." Then she hangs up.

Valerie was quiet for a long time.

 

Not because she didn't have anything to say.

Because she was making sure she said the right thing.

Because moments like this were dangerous.

This was where old patterns usually started again.

Where Seth would finally become vulnerable.

Where she'd feel guilty.

Where she'd comfort him.

Where somehow she would end up carrying his pain about hurting her.

And she couldn't do that anymore.

When she finally spoke, her voice was gentle.

But steady.

"I think it probably is."

Seth didn't answer.

Valerie looked out the window into the darkness.

"I think that might be the first real thing you've said tonight."

The words weren't cruel.

If anything, they sounded sad.

Seth let out a slow breath.

Because part of him had known she would say that.

Valerie continued.

"You know what makes it different?"

His voice came out rough.

"What?"

"You didn't follow it with a promise."

Silence.

"You didn't tell me you'd change."

Another pause.

"You didn't tell me to trust you."

Seth swallowed.

Valerie's voice softened.

"You didn't ask me to make you feel better."

That one landed.

Hard.

Because she was right.

For once, he hadn't.

And maybe that was why this felt different.

Why it felt so much more terrifying.

Valerie leaned her head back.

"Seth, I've spent so much time listening to you tell me how sorry you are."

His chest tightened.

"I know."

"I know you know."

The words were calm.

Measured.

"I've listened to you cry."

A pause.

"I've listened to you hate yourself."

Another pause.

"I've listened to you promise me things."

Seth closed his eyes.

Every word felt earned.

"And every time, I walked away feeling like I was supposed to help you carry your guilt."

His throat burned.

Because she had.

For years.

Valerie took a slow breath.

"But your guilt isn't the thing that hurt me."

Silence.

"The choices did."

Seth pressed a hand against his eyes.

His shoulders shaking once.

Just once.

Because there was nothing to argue with.

Nothing.

Valerie's voice remained steady.

"You keep talking about how awful you feel."

A pause.

"And I believe you."

That surprised him.

His eyes opened.

Valerie continued.

"I do believe you feel awful."

For a moment, Seth couldn't speak.

Because somehow hearing that hurt more than being called a liar.

"You do?" he asked quietly.

"Yes."

No hesitation.

"No doubt."

Seth stared at the floor.

Valerie's next words came gently.

"But feeling awful and being accountable aren't the same thing."

The truth settled over them.

Heavy.

Real.

"I think you've spent a long time confusing those things."

Seth's jaw tightened.

Because she was describing him perfectly.

Valerie continued.

"If you feel guilty, you think you've paid for what happened."

A pause.

"If you hate yourself enough, you think that proves you understand the damage."

Another pause.

"If you cry hard enough, you think it means you're changing."

Seth's chest felt tight.

Because he had thought those things.

Maybe not consciously.

But he had.

Valerie's voice became softer.

"Pain isn't the same thing as growth, Seth."

The words sat between them.

Simple.

Devastating.

"You can suffer and still stay exactly the same."

Seth lowered his head.

And for a moment neither of them spoke.

Then Valerie said something that made his heart stop.

"I don't need you to be sorry anymore."

His stomach dropped.

Not because she sounded angry.

Because she sounded tired.

The kind of tired that came after loving someone for too long.

"What do you need?" he whispered.

Valerie closed her eyes.

And when she answered, her voice trembled just slightly.

"I need you to stop making me responsible for what you do next."

Silence.

"You want to change?"

A pause.

"Then change."

Another.

"You want to become someone safe?"

Another.

"Then become someone safe."

Seth's eyes filled.

Valerie's voice remained calm.

"But don't do it because you're afraid of losing me."

His breath caught.

"Do it because it's the right thing to do."

The tears finally slipped free.

Because for the first time, she wasn't offering him a path back to her.

She was offering him a path back to himself.

And those weren't the same thing.

Valerie swallowed hard.

"I think that's what you've been missing."

Seth listened.

Broken.

Quiet.

"You've been treating change like a negotiation."

A long pause.

"'If I hurt enough, maybe she'll stay.'"

Another.

"'If I say the right thing, maybe she'll forgive me.'"

Another.

"'If I can prove I'm not a monster, maybe everything goes back to normal.'"

Seth looked down.

Because every single sentence felt familiar.

Valerie's voice softened even more.

"But real change happens when nobody promises you a reward."

The silence afterward felt endless.

Then Seth whispered:

"...And what if it's too late?"

Valerie's eyes filled.

Because that was the question underneath everything.

The one neither of them had wanted to touch.

When she answered, her voice was heartbreakingly honest.

"I don't know."

Seth shut his eyes.

The answer hurt.

But it was the first answer all night that didn't feel rehearsed.

Valerie took a shaky breath.

"I don't know if it's too late for us."

A pause.

"But I know it's not too late for you."

Seth froze.

"And that's the part you need to figure out."

The line fell silent again.

Neither speaking.

Neither hiding.

For the first time in a very long time, there was no rescue coming.

No reassurance.

No guarantees.

Just two people sitting with the truth.

And maybe, for the first time, Seth understood that the outcome wasn't something Valerie could give him.

It was something his future choices would have to earn.

Or lose.

Valerie didn't speak immediately.

 

For the first time since the conversation started, she couldn't.

Not because she was overwhelmed.

Not because he'd won.

Because she was finally seeing something she'd spent months trying not to see.

The silence stretched.

Seth shifted uncomfortably on the other end of the call.

"Val—"

"No."

Her voice was quiet.

Dangerously quiet.

Seth stopped.

Valerie swallowed once before speaking again.

"No. Don't do that."

"What?"

"Don't 'Val' me like you didn't just spend the last five minutes proving exactly what I've been afraid of."

Seth's jaw tightened.

"That's not what happened."

"It is."

The words came instantly.

Without hesitation.

Without emotion.

And somehow that hurt more than if she'd screamed.

"You know what the worst part is?" she asked.

Seth opened his mouth.

She didn't let him answer.

"The worst part isn't that you cheated."

His expression flickered.

"The worst part isn't even that you lied."

A pause.

"It's that every single time we get close to talking about what you did..."

Her voice cracked slightly.

"...you find a way to make yourself the victim."

Silence.

Seth looked away.

"That's not fair."

Valerie laughed.

And the sound was heartbreaking.

Not amused.

Not angry.

Just tired.

"Tired."

The kind of tired that came from carrying a relationship by herself.

"Tired of explaining why betrayal hurts."

"Tired of explaining why trust matters."

"Tired of explaining why accountability isn't punishment."

Her eyes stung.

"But mostly?"

Another breath.

"I'm tired of watching you fight harder to defend yourself than you ever fought to keep me."

That one landed.

Hard.

Because Seth couldn't immediately argue with it.

Valerie heard the silence.

And continued.

"When I told you what repeated betrayal does to people, I wasn't threatening you."

Her voice remained calm.

"I was telling you something that terrifies me."

Seth's brows furrowed.

"What?"

Valerie closed her eyes briefly.

"That if someone gets hurt enough..."

Her throat tightened.

"...eventually they stop recognizing themselves."

The confession hung between them.

Raw.

Honest.

"I don't want to become someone who hurts people back."

A tear slid down her cheek.

"I don't want to become bitter."

Another.

"I don't want to become cruel."

She wiped it away angrily.

"But do you know what scares me?"

Seth didn't answer.

"The fact that after everything that's happened, I'm starting to understand why people do."

Silence.

Heavy.

Unavoidable.

"And instead of hearing that fear..."

Valerie shook her head.

"...you turned it into an attack on you."

Seth swallowed.

For the first time, he looked uncomfortable.

Not defensive.

Not angry.

Just uncomfortable.

Valerie saw it.

And kept going.

"You said maybe we're both pretending I'm better than you."

A slow shake of her head.

"No."

Another pause.

"This was never about being better than you."

Her voice softened.

Because despite everything—

She still loved him.

And that made this hurt even more.

"It's about the fact that when I hurt you, I care."

Seth went still.

"When I imagine causing you the kind of pain you've caused me..."

Her voice trembled.

"...it makes me sick."

Another pause.

"You imagined causing me that pain."

A beat.

"And did it anyway."

The words struck like a hammer.

Simple.

Undeniable.

True.

Seth stared at the floor.

Valerie continued before he could interrupt.

"And then you said something that I can't stop thinking about."

His stomach dropped.

Because he knew exactly which part.

Valerie's voice became almost a whisper.

"'I'm not gonna spend the rest of my life feeling monitored because I screwed up.'"

Silence.

"You know what I didn't hear in that sentence?"

Seth didn't answer.

"I didn't hear regret."

A tear slipped down her face.

"I didn't hear remorse."

Another.

"I didn't hear 'I'll earn your trust back.'"

Her voice broke.

"I heard resentment."

Seth flinched.

Finally.

Actually flinched.

Valerie nodded slowly.

"That's what scared me."

The room felt smaller.

The air heavier.

"Because people who are sorry don't get angry at accountability."

A long pause.

"People who are sorry accept it."

Seth's chest tightened.

"And people who plan on changing don't complain about what change costs them."

Silence.

The truth sat there.

Neither of them touching it.

Valerie took a shaky breath.

Then finally said the thing she'd been avoiding.

The thing she'd been terrified to admit.

"I think you've spent this entire conversation trying to figure out how to keep me."

Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"But I don't think you've spent nearly enough time figuring out how to stop hurting me."

Seth's eyes closed.

Because there was no defense for that.

None.

And for the first time all night—

Valerie didn't sound angry.

Didn't sound heartbroken.

Didn't even sound hopeful.

She sounded disappointed.

Which was somehow so much worse.

"I love you, Seth."

The words came softly.

Honestly.

Painfully.

"I love you enough that I wanted to believe every apology."

A long pause.

"But right now?"

Her voice cracked.

"I don't know if you love me more than you love being forgiven."

And this time—

When the silence fell—

Neither of them knew how to escape it.

Valerie was quiet for a long time after he finished.

 

Not frozen.

Not uncertain.

Just... listening.

Not only to the words he said—but to the ones he avoided.

Her eyes stayed on him steadily, and that almost made it worse. Because she wasn't yelling. Wasn't breaking apart. Wasn't giving him an easy reaction to push against.

When she finally spoke, her voice was calm.

Too calm.

"...See, that's the problem, Seth."

A small shake of her head.

"You keep talking about how you felt. How you thought I was leaving. How you thought things were already broken."

She swallowed once.

"And maybe some of that is true."

Honest.

Painfully honest.

"I was pulling away sometimes. I was tired. I was frustrated, overwhelmed, trying to hold everything together while feeling like we stopped hearing each other somewhere along the line."

Her gaze didn't leave his.

"But you know what I didn't do?"

A beat.

"I didn't go looking for someone else to make me feel important."

That landed softly.

Which somehow made it hit harder.

"You keep trying to explain this like it became inevitable because things got difficult between us." Valerie's voice remained even, but there was steel underneath it now. "But difficult doesn't erase choice. Feeling lonely doesn't erase choice. Being scared doesn't erase choice."

Another pause.

"And what scares me right now isn't even just what you did."

Her expression tightened slightly then—not anger.

Disappointment.

"It's that you're still leaving doors open."

Seth's jaw shifted faintly.

Valerie noticed.

Of course she did.

"You didn't say it's over," she said quietly. "You didn't say there isn't anyone else still in the background. You just said it 'didn't mean anything.'"

A humorless breath escaped her.

"Do you have any idea how insulting that is?"

Now her voice wavered—not with weakness, but emotion finally slipping through the cracks.

"Because if it meant nothing... then you hurt me for nothing."

Silence filled the room again.

Heavy.

Breathing.

Alive.

Then Valerie straightened slightly, like she'd made a decision somewhere deep inside herself.

"I'm staying."

The words surprised even the air between them.

"But don't mistake that for me pretending this is okay."

Her eyes hardened then.

Not cold.

Just done being naive.

"I'm staying because I still love you. Because part of me still believes there's something here worth saving."

A beat.

"But I'm not going to sit here forever while you keep one foot outside this relationship."

There it was.

The line.

Clear now.

"If you keep cheating on me, Seth..." Valerie said slowly, each word deliberate, "then eventually I'm going to stop being the only faithful person in this relationship."

His expression shifted instantly.

She saw it.

Shock.

Hurt.

Maybe even anger.

Good.

"Don't look at me like that," she said before he could speak. "You don't get to act devastated by the possibility while expecting me to survive the reality of it over and over again."

Her voice cracked then, finally exposing the damage underneath all the control.

"I'm human too."

That one barely came out above a whisper.

"I can only keep swallowing pain for so long before something in me breaks... or stops caring."

Another silence.

Then softer now—

Not cruel.

Not threatening.

Just honest.

"I don't want to become that person, Seth."

Her eyes glistened, but she refused to look away.

"I don't want to hurt you back. I don't want revenge. I don't want other people."

A breath trembled out of her.

"I want you to stop making me feel like loving you means humiliating myself."

And that—

More than the anger.

More than the ultimatum.

More than the threat hidden beneath her restraint—

Was the part that hurt the most.