I own nothing.
"Roger, babe, calm down."
"Mimi, how do you expect me to act when I come home early from work and find you packed up and leaving? How am I supposed to be calm?"
"Rog," I move slightly closer to him, and reach out for him. "Look," He shrugs my hand away, I reluctantly pull back. "I just… this isn't working. It hasn't, for a while awhile, babe." I explain as fragilely as I can, though I'm filled with enough rage towards him to lash out at any second.
"Meems, I love you. I love you! Why now? We are working! What is it really? I know you're telling me something. Please, we can solve this. Please." He begs, on the verge of being completely pathetic.
If only I could tell you exactly. You would hate me. Maybe this would be easier if you would hate me…
"Roger, you don't love me." I say and immediately look to my toes, half with shame, half with anticipation.
"How can you say that? Of course I love you." He says as he takes my hands in his and gently rubs his thumbs over them lovingly.
I pull my hands away roughly. "Rog, you loved me. You might care for me. You might want me. But, love? No. Not anymore." I rationalize. "Now, just listen to me, for once, okay? I'm going. For Good. Forever. I'm sorry. I really, really am. I just… have to go… I love you, though." I say, and reach for my bag.
"How can you still love me, but I can't love you?" He nearly snarls at me.
At this, I stand tall and look him directly in the eyes. "Because, I'm not in love with someone else, hun."
And with that, I pick my bag, open the door, and leave, ignoring Roger's calls of protest. There's an overwhelming sense of accomplishment washing over me as I walk down the steps for the final time. Once I'm out on the street, I spot Mark coming home from filming.
"Mimi! Hey… woah… what's with all this?" He says and points to my bag.
I take his hand in mine and tenderly squeeze it. "I'm leaving, Mark. Now, listen, Roger's upstairs pissed about our breakup, not sad, I wouldn't do that to you. He's pissed, and just a bit bitter. Soon, he's gonna get vulnerable, and his wounded ego will set in. He'll want someone. He'll want you. He'll love you. He does."
He looks at me like I have just admitted to being behind the mason murders. I lean in and kiss him softly on the forehead. "Your welcome." I whisper.
The, I let go of his hand, and walk slowly away without one look back.
Short first chapter, I know. But, what do you think?