“Why, what?” He blinks, looking tired and annoyed. The sculpted cheekbones, the square jaw coated in light brown stubble, a head full of messy dark blond hair, and the most piercing blue eyes I’ve ever seen. Leo’s the kind of handsome that lives inside magazines. Then finally, he turns his head to look at me from where he’s sprawled out on the other couch. I just want my heart to stop hurting every time I look at him, and he looks away from me. I thought asking for a divorce would elicit a reaction from the cold, aloof mask he’s so fond of wearing these days. Can’t he see me? Can’t he see what’s happening to me? To him? To all of us? Ten years that I don’t want to throw away. We’ve been married for ten years this November. As if I’m invisible even when I’m in the same room as him, sharing the same bed as him, and supposed to be sharing a life with him. Why he’s chosen to make me feel so alone. Over the past seven months, he’s closed himself off to me. Because Lord knows I’ve exhausted my search for answers. Finally tell me what has gone wrong between us. My own eyes have been glued to the blank profile of his face for the last ten seconds since the words left my mouth. “No.” That’s all Leo says, not taking his eyes off the TV. I never pictured myself having to, but it’s done now.īut wishing means that I have some form of hope, and hope has no place in this house or this heart of mine anymore. The words ring hollowly in my ears, but they’re out.
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