The wordmarriagefell between us like a dropped plate.
I stiffened.
“... getting close to the end,” she continued, wrapping both hands around her mug. “Looks like everything is going to plan, right?”
Her tone was light. Too light.
Panic flared in her eyes, fast and unguarded. She hesitated, like she was choosing her words carefully, like she didn’t want to say the wrong thing now that the end was suddenly close enough to touch.
Right.
She wants out.
“Of course.” I forced a casual shrug. “That was always the deal. A brief arrangement. You don’t have to worry. I won’t drag this out longer than necessary.”
Her head snapped up. “I?—”
“Relax,” I added, sharper than I intended. “You won’t be stuck playing a supportive wife much longer.”
Her mouth pressed into a thin line. “Wow.”
I scoffed. “What? I’m agreeing with you.”
“No,” she said. “You’re assuming.”
“About what?” I shot back.
“That I’m counting down the days.” She stepped closer. “That I can’t wait to be done with this.”
“Are you saying you’re not?” I challenged, taking a step closer to her this time.
Silence stretched between us, taut and buzzing.
She opened her mouth, then closed it.
That answered that.
“Right,” I said flatly. “Thought so.”
She crossed her arms. “You’re being a jerk.”
“And you obviously can’t wait to be rid of me,” I fired back.
Her eyes flashed as she took another step. “Don’t tell me how I feel.”
“Then stop acting like you’re looking for the exit.” My feet brought me closer to her.
We were close now. Too close. Every word pulled us tighter together instead of pushing us apart.
“Well, maybe I’m scared,” she practically yelled. “Did you ever think of that?” Her stance was ready for a fight, but her eyes matched her words. “Is that so unreasonable?”
Something in her voice, raw and honest, made my chest ache.
“I’m scared too,” I shot back. “But at least I’m not pretending this hasn’t meant something.”
Her breath hitched, and her features softened.
“Wait. What did you say?” she whispered.
