I've had this in my head for awhile. It's inspired by one of the songs I listen to on a routine basis and I needed to get it out onto paper. I'm considering making this a short two-shot, but we shall see.
Don't hate me - I've been feeling angsty.
Aria remembers a time when New York wasn't so lonely – when she didn't come home to an empty apartment night after night. When she and Ezra and first arrived, they lived in a tiny shoebox apartment, reminiscent of his back in Rosewood. It cost twice the amount. But they were happy; they made it a home. Ezra stocked the bookshelf while Aria lit incense.
That was 5 years ago at the start of her freshman year at New York University. He followed her out of their tiny Pennsylvania town for their fresh start in the big city. It was cliché, but they were both hopeless romantics at the time. Perhaps they still were, except they weren't on the same page of their love story.
A photo frame from their wedding rests on the table next to the front door. The smiles on both Aria and Ezra's faces remind her of a simpler time when the only thing either of them needed was one another. They didn't go down the extravagant route. Instead, they were wed at city hall with Aria's parents as witnesses and then were joined by a handful of their closest family and friends for the reception at their favorite Italian bistro.
Aria understood that marriage wasn't supposed to be easy. Nothing between her and Ezra had ever been easy, so she assumed that she had been fully armed with an arsenal of tools to battle through the ups and downs of being married. They had their squabbles, their nights when Ezra slept on the couch rather than in bed alongside Aria. But somehow, the two always found a way to make up and fall back into one another's good graces and arms.
That was until Ezra began writing his book – the book he'd always wanted to write. It was personal fiction in a way; the names were different, but the trials and tribulations of his growing up were all the same. It struck a chord in her, reading the painful memories that Ezra had explained to her already. Aria remembers waking up at 3 in the morning because he hadn't come to bed. Ezra would be sitting on the couch, pounding out on his keyboard. He still wouldn't come back to bed with her, no matter how many times or ways Aria attempted to convince him.
It all started there. Aria had been well aware of how hyper-focused Ezra could get on something – how fixated his mind could be once he had an idea. However, she always figured that in the back of his mind, he'd remember her presence; that she could pull him out of his trance.
It got worse when Ezra got a book deal. The man Aria loved was slipping further and further away from her with every meeting he had with his editor. Their sex life began to dwindle. No flimsy piece of lingerie could get his attention, except on a rare occasion. He claimed he was too tired and would flop into bed and turn on the television to some mindless sitcom. Aria tired to be happy, but how happy could someone be when their other half was dissolving in front of them?
It fell apart when Ezra's book hit #1 on the New York Times Bestseller list and he was offered the chance to go on a book tour around the country. Much as his story had struck a chord within Aria, it seemed to do the same for the rest of the American public. The invitation was extended to her, but she declined. Aria had her own life and job in New York. Ezra's life was with the book.
They haven't properly spoken in weeks. He sends her the odd text every once and awhile to check in, but Aria can't seem to find the resolve to send one back. It upsets her too much. A small part of her wonders if after this is all over, they'll return back to normal. But Aria knows better. His publisher will start him on the next book and he'll be entirely gone. No texts, no looking over his shoulder to her as he types.
Aria places her keys down beside the wedding photo. With the success of his book, they've upgraded from their tiny shoebox apartment to something a little bigger with a guest room and a full on kitchen. The purchase hadn't been her idea. When Ezra was still Ezra, he'd bought it as an anniversary surprise. It was too big, in her opinion. It was just Aria, by herself. Nobody ever came to visit them and they didn't have a child. Maybe they would have if everything hadn't changed.
She's tired of coming home to nobody. She's tired of being alone – eating alone, watching television alone, sleeping alone. Aria can't reach Ezra anymore; something she has never envisioned. He is too far-gone on a plane straight to his success. She is the wife he left behind.
She neglects dinner and heads straight into their bedroom. There's a suitcase at the bottom of her closet that she drags out and begins to shove her belongings into. Aria refuses to sit by and be another piece of furniture in the apartment she can't bring herself to call home. Ezra's due back in a few days, however Aria doesn't plan to be what he finds when he opens the door. Her hand shakes as she zips up the suitcase and that's when the tears begin to fall and wet the paper she begins to write on.
No, what he'll find is inspiration for his next book; a note that's tearstained and only reads I'm sorry next to their wedding photo.