A/N: Going through some personal hell and am purging it in the form of a fanfic. If you listen to the song "Close to Crazy" by the ever talented Reba McEntire, you'll know exactly how the narrator feels. This fic is written so you can insert any characters you choose, but I had one particular pair in mind when I wrote. Usual disclaimer applies: Don't own them. Never have, never will. But I can dream that I do.
Dull. Flat. Both were words that accurately described how she felt. The light had left her world months ago, when he said he wanted to see if they were better off apart than they were together. For weeks she held out hope that he would see he was wrong, and then she came along. The homewrecker. Who knew what stories he was feeding that woman, but she knew what stories he was feeding her. That he wasn't sure he made the right choice, that he didn't know what he wanted, that he wanted to see if the changes she had made were sincere. But those stories didn't erase the fact that just weeks after admitting he was seeing homewrecker he announced he was moving in with her. And that he was still there, living with that woman, if you could consider her one, not making any attempts to leave. If anything he was integrating homewrecker into his life even more, like he was completely replacing her with homewrecker. All without even having the courtesy to file for a legal separation from her, first.
It's amazing, she mused numbly, that despite being shattered into millions of tiny shards the heart continues to beat. She knew that for the entire duration of their relationship, she was the one always giving and giving, he only took. Even now, after he had left, she was still the only one giving. She knew that he was living the life he wanted with homewrecker while waiting to see if she jumped through the hoops he set up and became the woman he wanted her to be. She realized that for most women, realizing those things would make them say "Enough. I can't do this anymore, I'm done." But not her. Instead those thoughts made her feel that she was inadequate, that there was something intrinsically wrong with her that made him stop loving her and walk away from their vows. Every time she made one step toward healing she would have to see him again, talk to him again, and inevitably take another three steps backwards. At times the hurt was so intense she couldn't breathe. On some days she would be feeling all right, and then the hurt would stab suddenly, sharply, bringing her to her knees. And she was back in the dark chasm of pain.
She wanted to confront him on her thoughts, tell him everything that she felt, but was afraid. She was afraid that it would drive him further into homewrecker's arms and erase any chance of him coming home to her. Because if he didn't come home, she felt she would die. She was so broken, so damaged, that no other man would want her. When she thought about the future it was a lonely, empty, solitary life ahead. So she prayed, and wished, and dreamed at night, for his return.