Work Text:
How many times would she be forced to endure this hellish conversation?
"So...?"
"So what, John? I'm xeroxing."
"So, when are you finalizing it?"
Patience, Robin.
"Seriously, John? You're asking me that, here?"
"Robin, it's been six fucking months. He's not coming ba--"
"Don't you dare talk to me like that--"
Whipping around, Robin jabbed a finger as hard as she dared without trying to break it into his chest, glaring up at him as she attempted to stop the tears that were already threatening to sting her eyes. "You don't get to... To-- To just decide when my limit is for grieving, John--"
"Robin, I'm not trying to limit you, I'm just trying to be realistic. Your marriage was failing, you know that-- It's not good for the kids for you to keep hanging on to him. He's not coming back."
"Shut up."
"Rob--"
"I said shut up--"
Finger switched to hand as she attempted to push him away, but really, she might have been shoving against a wall for all the good it did her. He didn't even budge.
"I'll move on when I'm good and fucking ready-- So stop... Hounding me!"
"I don't want to see you keep throwing your fucking life away for him!"
That made her pause, her eyes widening as she looked back up at him; his hand found hers on his chest, holding it there for a moment, even as she started to tug her hand away from the contact.
"Don't forget, I had to watch as he took you away from me before-- I don't want to see him take you from me again."
"... I never was yours, John. Even then. Maybe before you start telling me what to let go of, you take a good look at yourself, first."
Turning on her heel, Robin grabbed the papers she'd been copying and held them to her chest, storming past him without a second glance.
"And if you're trying to be a better man... Try harder."