I hear the door open, breaking the silence in the hotel. I don't move or turn to acknowledge his presence, remaining seated in the spacious living room, with a wine glass in my grasp. His distinct smell washes over me—woody and expensive. His footsteps follow moments after, edging closer. I feel his presence when he enters the room, and I hear his calm breaths, but he says nothing. Like he doesn't care to be here. With me.
"Are you gonna just stand there?" He shakes his head and silently moves to sit on the coffee table in front of me.
"So, what did she say?" He asks, gazing around at the light tones, marble floors and full-length glass windows encompassing us.
"So you know whom I'm talking about, it doesn't matter what she said. I want to hear what you have to say."
He glances at me. "Yeah, I know," he sighs, “I met her a few months ago. We've been talking. We went on a date, and we kissed…"
"Wow," I gasp. When is it okay to cheat on your wife?
"I know we've been on the rocks for months, but this Luke is on a whole new level. Is that what we're doing now?"
He ignores me, staring mutely over my shoulder. How can he have nothing to say? Not even to try to apologise—or even justify himself. Nothing.
"Cheating is not something our relationship has ever included, and I don't plan to start now… I honestly thought we were better than that. I know you are grieving which is why you've been acting the way you have been but you've got to face it and deal with it because it will destroy us if you don't. That is why I snapped out of it and I am keeping my head above water because I don't want to lose you, Luke. Or myself. You need to stop pushing me away because you might succeed and I don't want to give up on us. Ever. Okay?"
He stares at me coldly. Does he not care anymore? Is that where we are now?
"Cat got your tongue? Fucking say something!" I shout, throwing my wine glass in his direction, at the wall behind him. No response. No flinch. And the fear inside me still bubbles as anger consumes me. My eyebrows fold as I stare concentratedly at the mess I made—a dark stain in its wake with dark red drops dripping down the wall. The fumes tangle in the air.
"Maybe you should," he finally says.
"What?"
"We haven't been okay for months and I think it's time we put an end to this," He waves his arms between us. He wants to end things with me?
"You don't mean that."
"Yes, I do. I want a divorce."
"No." I say. How dare he be the one to ask for a divorce? The cheek of this bastard. I know...