Pezberry Week | Angst
Santana wrapped her arms around her knees, holding them against her chest. Her eyelids fluttered and she turned away, staring at the window next to the bed, watching the clouds roll across the sky.
"I can't believe that you would do this to me," Rachel whispered, clutching the stack of papers in her hand, wrinkling them as her fingers clenched. She braced herself against the dresser.
"Yes, you can," Santana said. "That's what you said, isn't it? That you were going to regret me."
"Santana," Rachel hissed, her breath catching in her throat. "That was years ago. Look how far we've come. You're just going to throw away everything that we've built together?" she cried, waving the papers in front of her, the word divorce catching her eye and burning itself into her brain as she did.
Santana said nothing at first, tilting her head as the sun struggled to push itself through the clouds she was watching. She turned away from the window, looking at Rachel with a steady gaze. "Do you regret me yet?"
Rachel exhaled brokenly, her eyes wide and full of disbelief. "Always," she whispered, shaking her head. "Always."