He could hear her sobbing in the bathroom. No matter how hard he tried to block it out, how much he tried to imagine it was something else, the noise still haunted his dreams. He knew how much she wanted this to work. He knew how the regret, how the remorse ate away at her soul. But he couldn't bring himself to do anything about it. She was the one that broke the promise. She was the one who ended it all.
She spent her evenings alone, fixing her makeup until her face returned to its usual mask-like state. She pretended that it was working, although she knew deep down that he heard her. Every night at the same time she would crawl into bed, making sure to stay concealed in her half, ignoring how much she longed to touch him. To feel him. To be with him.
He would watch her walk down the hallways, heels high, dress sharp. To any other observer, she would look immaculate. So well presented. But he could see that her stride was a little slower, head hanging a little lower. That spark had been put out. He tried as hard as he could to blame her, to feel no guilt over what had happened. He couldn't.
She could feel her eyes burning every time he looked at the intern. He was meant to look at her like that, not some pathetic little child. That gaze was meant for her. Hurt would rise up from her belly, until her head throbbed with the thoughts of what could have been and she broke down. Searing pain. Raw emotion. She wondered if he felt it too.
He did.
On call rooms became her haven. She couldn't bear to sleep in their bed feeling so alone that it ate her up inside. She needed him to want her, and the realisation that he didn't was too much for her to handle. Laying there she felt safe. Like nothing bad could happen. It was a distraction, a mind game she would play with herself to avoid coming to terms with the fact that their marriage was over.
He stumbled into an on call room that week after a back-breaking surgery. She was there. His head told him to leave, to backpedal as fast as he could but he stayed rooted to the spot.
She sensed he was there. She could identify his scent from a mile off. It used to be so familiar, but now there was a distance in the way. Eye contact felt like too much, but she liked having him there so she lay still.
His eyes darted over the figure on the bed, absorbing her flame red hair, narrow waist and delicate features. She was so beautiful.
She could feel his eyes on her so she met hers with his. Looking at them again, she remembered how much she loved their colour. She melted in them.
He took a step towards her.
She held her breath.
He reached out a hand.
She waited.
Contact. She had been longing for this for months, desperate for it to come true. It felt as good as she remembered.
He laid down on the bed beside her and stroked her soft hair. Hands slid over her waist. Feeling a smile spread across her face, she bit her lip. Tension. He could feel it too. Manoeuvring his body so it fitted exactly around hers, he rubbed her shoulder. Although just a small gesture, it felt intimate. She reached around hesitantly to touch his chest and felt his heart pounding. He placed a hand over hers and they lay there in silence until he broke it.
'I still love you'
Her heart fluttered.
'I love you too.'