Clary stared at the shattered vase on the floor. It had been a beautiful cut-glass vase that she and Jace had got as a marriage present. Now, much like her marriage, it lay on the floor, smashed to smithereens.
No - she couldn't believe it had come to this. They'd always had problems - every couple had problems. They'd worked through them. They'd fall more in love.
But there would always be something else. Some other factor that ripped them apart again.
Clary knew they wouldn't last like that. And they didn't.
Finally, after the last of many, many fights, Jace had left. Left for good.
He'd broken her heart and there wasn't a soul she could talk to. Simon and Isabelle had their own marital crisis, Magnus was still mourning Alec's death, and her parents...her parents were gone. Dead.
Sometimes Clary wished she was dead. Being dead would make you numb - no amount of heartbreak would trouble you, and that constant ache inside would disappear.
Yes, Clary wanted to die - to escape it all, but she didn't have the guts to.
Despite it all, she still believed that there was a chance, however slim, that things could get better.

Clary was at the supermarket, staring down at the brightly-coloured items on the shelves. Her life was so dull now, that it was a bitter irony to notice how bright little things could be.
"Clary?"
"Simon?"
She couldn't believe it, but there he was. The last time Clary'd seen him, they'd both been in their twenties and happily married to their respective partners.
He'd aged - not badly, just noticeably. A little grey here and there, a few lines around his eyes and his mouth, but he was still Simon. He was still there. It gave Clary a sense of permanency, seeing him.
"What are you doing here? I thought you were in England."
"I moved." Simon's voice was hoarse - the only clue that linked him to his old smoking habit. He didn't smell of cigarettes anymore, so he must've given them up.
"You aren't with the band anymore?" Clary didn't want to sound interrogative, but she was curious.
"I had to leave." His voice held a wistful tone. "It was bringing me down. It ruined my marriage." His dark eyes drifted towards his left hand, where a thin tan-line was all that suggested that there had once been a wedding ring there.
"I see you've moved on." Simon gestured around him. "You didn't set foot outside the house after Jace...left." He ended on an embarrassed note, as if he was ashamed to bring it up.
"I couldn't stay there forever." Clary tried for lightness. "Maryse had enough to contend with. Plus, we were all worried about you. We didn't think you were going to pull through." She paused, her eyes on the chipped tile floor. "You nearly died, Simon."
"I know." Simon's hands twitched on his trolley. "I put Isabelle through hell, and no amount of apologies could ever make up for it. It was almost a relief when she left. I knew she hated me - I just couldn't bear waking up to it every morning." He looked at Clary sadly. "I still love her."
"She still loves you."
"Excuse me," A fat, rather grandmotherly lady glared at the pair, "But how do you think anyone can pass you when you stand in the aisle like that?"
"Sorry, sorry." Clary muttered, vaguely annoyed. There was actually plenty of room, but there was no pleasing some people.
"I don't know about you, but I could use some coffee." Simon was directly behind her in the checkout line. "You wanna join me?"
"Sure." Clary jumped at the offer, not so much as a chance to reconnect with an old friend, but because she had next to nothing to do at home and she was tired of constantly being alone.
"I know people say Starbucks is the best, but there's this quaint little café a couple of blocks away that serves some amazing cappuccinos."
"We'll try that, then" Clary envied the fact that Simon had had the guts to experiment with new places after his life practically collapsed in on him. It made her seem almost pathetic for not doing anything after Jace left. She was an ideal pathetic, heartbroken ex-wife.
They took Simon's banged-up Chevy, as Clary'd taken the bus to go shopping, plus she didn't have a car of her own.
It was as quaint as Simon made it out to be, and the cappuccinos were fairly good. If Clary'd still been able to paint, she'd have loved to sketch the café - from its creaking wooden floors to its exotic upholstery to its cheaply-dressed, over-animed customers.
"Earth to Clary, I asked you a question." Simon peered at her over his cup of coffee.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I must've spaced out. I do that, if I've forgotten to do something, and I don't think I bought any tinned tuna." Easy - lying was easy after living with Jace Herondale for over ten years.
Simon's brows went up. "I hate tuna. Haven't eaten any for six years or so."
Ever since Isabelle left you. It was on the tip of Clary's tongue, but of course she couldn't say it. Instead, she changed the topic, "I suppose one does get sick of tuna. By the way, I've got this wonderful recipe for spaghetti I got from an Italian website."
They engaged in small-talk for well over an hour - subjects spanning from local news to politics to television programmes to good books, but never once returning to the subject of either Jace or Isabelle. Those were taboo, if the pair were to have a light conversation.
"Is it five already?" Simon sighed, looking at his watch. "I'm sorry, Clary, I've got to run and collect some stuff from the laundromat before it closes. Umm...I could drop you along the way, if you want." A level of awkwardness was letting itself be known in his manner.
"No - that's no problem." Clary wasn't going to force her company on him. "I've got a couple of errands to run myself. It was nice seeing you after so long, Simon. We have to do this again sometime."
"Yes, we do." He sounded sincere enough. "You're...good to talk to, Clary."