Work Text:
big girls cry when their hearts are breaking.
I
It was her decision, to leave him. So when she has to see him, when she fucks him, she's cold. She doesn't tell him about her life.
She doesn't tell him that the shirt he called her asking about, this musky green one that brings out his eyes, lays underneath all of her possessions in her bedside table.
She doesn't tell him that she's dating another man who can't compare to him, that he doesn't keep her on her toes like he had.
That she dreams of him. That she misses him.
Instead, she makes him feel unwanted. Like she doesn't love him anymore when she loves him more than she could ever love herself.
She doesn't cry until she's alone in her apartment, after she sees him, after they fuck on his bed because she refuses to let him into her new life like that. Into her home. Into her mind, into her heart. To many of her colleagues, he ceased to exist in her life.
But to her, he's practically her reason for breath. She's lost so much, been through so much, and she swears nothing compares to the pain of the look on his face when she tells him that she's leaving him.
She doesn't even have it in her to send divorce papers because she wants him to hope that she'll come back to him.
All she has left of him are nights spent in his bedroom, in the dark, riding him and marking him as if he was still hers.
And that damned t-shirt that still smells like him.