It hadn't always been like this, Tatiana thought as she chopped vegetables half-heartedly. There was a time, years ago, when she had felt loved-when she felt special to him. Now, there was the odd time when she saw some vague remnant of that time long past in his eyes as he looked at her, but mostly what she saw when they made eye contact was pity.

Damn his pity.

At thirty-two, almost all of the women she'd gone to college with were married and had children, and most had found jobs they loved or were stay-at-home moms. And Tatiana...well. Tatiana didn't even have half of that going for her.

Tatiana had taken some business and financing classes in college, which was where she had met her partner. Gods, she couldn't even say husband! In a relationship and living together for over twelve years now, and still she had no engagement ring to show for it. The simple promise ring on her finger was so frustrating it took all she had not to throw it out the window and cry.

Back when she was nineteen, she had met her...partner...and they had felt as though they were kindred souls, with their intellect and their sarcasm and their appreciation for the finer things in life. However, her partner had always had so much more ambition, an almost overwhelming desire for perfection. And then there was his unswerving devotion to his long-time friend...

In the end, her partner had ended up with a more-than-six-figure job tethered to his best friend with more-than-full-time hours.

Tatiana, on the other hand, had a lousy nine to five job in payroll at one of the local advertising companies.

Whoopee.

Especially in the last couple of years, it had felt more like she was living alone than anything. Her partner was always out at all hours, when he came in he would make minimal conversation with her, mainly just falling into bed exhausted for what little sleep was possible before his phone went off with an urgent business call and he was off and running again. It was no life. No life for her, anyhow. Her partner was aggressively fixed on maintaining his exhausting lifestyle for the sake of his friend, and whenever the two of them were in the same room long enough for her to try and broach the subject, he would shut her down immediately. She knew the nature of his business. She knew why it mattered so much to him. She didn't know any specifics, but it was easy enough to guess. But if anyone were to sit her in an interrogation room, she wouldn't be able to tell them anything for sure, because there was no communication between them.

It was like she was living with a ghost.

Tatiana felt a wetness on the back of her hand, and she touched it to her face, realizing with a shock that she was crying. She glared at the half-chopped cabbage on the cutting board. She wasn't even cutting onion she could blame her tears on.

The quiet sound of tires against the gravel driveway outside snapped her out of her angry haze and she hastily swiped the tears away, depositing the cabbage in a bowl with the rest of the chopped vegetables and adding the coleslaw dressing, placing the finished product on the table before pulling out the chicken breasts and roasted potatoes she'd left in the oven to keep warm, placing the dishes on potholders next to the coleslaw. It was a rare occasion for her partner to be home in time for supper. She glanced at the clock-6:29 pm. He knew she always ate supper at precisely 6:30 pm. Whenever his job allowed, he was punctual to a fault. She half-smiled at that. Some things just never change, she thought, despite the tears that still moistened her eyes, threatening to fall. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing them away. She might loathe how little time she got to see her partner, but she'd be damned if she spoiled the time that they did spend together with tears and sadness. She loved him, damnit, and no matter how fed up she was with her life she'd never be able to change that.

The electronic lock turned, and she could hear the porch door swing open in the next room over. There was the slight, familiar shuffling of her partner removing his coat and shoes and stowing them in the closet before he appeared, looking tired, in the kitchen entryway.

He gave that charming half-smile she'd fallen for all those years ago. "Evening, Tia," he said, using the nickname only he ever used for her.

She tried to smile back. It felt forced. Even though she was happy to get to see him that rare occasion, she could not just forget the unhappiness that lingered in her gut like a festering wound.

"Hi, Wes."

Wesley's brow creased, and he stepped towards her, reaching out a hand and placing it on her arm-a comforting gesture, but she couldn't help but turn her head away, avoiding eye contact. If she met his eyes, she knew the dam would break and the tears would be unstoppable.

"Tia? What's wrong?" Wesley asked, moving his other hand to cup her cheek, gently turning her face towards him, but she resolutely stared at his feet rather than his face. "Why won't you look at me?"

She made the mistake of flicking her eyes up to meet his at that statement, and it only took a moment.

The tears were back, and the flood began.

"Wes, I-I, I-I can't do this anymore," she stammered through her tears, taking in great, hiccuping breaths of air. She knew she was an ugly crier. Wesley had never cared. He'd always just laughed and said that it was a trade-off because she rarely ever cried.

"What? Can't do what?" he said, cradling her face in both hands now. His brow was still furrowed, that slightly concerned look that he got sometimes, the closest thing that he ever got to showing fear.

Tatiana moved her hands to her hair, pulling at it in frustration. "Ugh-this, I can't do this! I never see you, we never talk, you almost never do anything but sleep when you're here because that man is running you ragged, Wes! Can't you see? I know he's your friend, but you have no life! I..." she trailed off, noting that he seemed to have withdrawn into himself slightly at her mention of his friend, despite that she had avoided saying his name, just as Wesley had always instructed her to. She moved her hands from her hair to grasp his hands on either side of her face, leaning into them slightly. "I...just want to be with you," she said quietly, ashamed of the way her voice broke towards the end of her sentence. "Is that too much to ask?"

Wesley stared at her, seeming to analyze her. This was the part that she hated. When he was thinking, she could never read his expression. Which, unfortunately, was most of the time. She could never tell what he was thinking. He liked to joke that it was why he was so good at poker. It wasn't really a good thing when it came to being in a relationship with him though. She always came up empty-handed in situations like this because of it.

Wesley surprised her, though, when he seemed to make up his mind and half-smiled again, leaning forward...and placing a chaste kiss on her forehead.

Well, it was more than she'd gotten in a good month now, anyway.

"I'll try."

Tatiana resisted the urge to clean her ears out.

Had she heard that right? Did he really just say that?

Tatiana threw her arms around Wesley's neck and kissed him hard on the mouth, earning a low chuckle from him. When she pulled back from him, however, he turned serious once again. Always so serious, her Wesley.

"You know I can't make any promises, Tia," he said quietly, his arms settling around her waist now. "I can only try."

Tatiana sighed, leaning her head against his shoulder and inhaling the scent of his cologne.

"I know, Wes. You're an important man," she said, closing her eyes as his arms tightened around her, finding comfort in his warm embrace. "I just want to know that you're still my important man."

She could feel the shift of his chest as he inhaled, an almost possessive note in his voice as he breathed out,

"Always."