He didn't know what to say.

His lover, wife and friend had just turned on him, turned because of suspicions raised by her friends. He had from the first moment on accepted that these two men, who seemed to think they were her protectors, would never be his friends. They, as opposed to her, weren't willing to forget the past, his past to be more precise. So, they had always been her friends, and it hadn't bothered him that they hated him as fervently as they loved her.

He had always trusted her, that she would not let somebody influence her, when it came down to him. He had known she was strong enough to take care of herself, and to maker her very own decisions, like being with him, without anybody else interfering in it, but now she had done just that.

She had let her friends influence her, had let them manipulate her, had let them flood her with wrong intel, had let them into their private life, and it all came down to betraying him.

He registered that she was crying, holding the compromising and unbelievably thick folder in her hand. His heart wanted to rush to her side, comfort her, but he knew that his arms weren't welcome anymore.

She was speaking to him, he suddenly realised. If it was true. He still couldn't believe that she would not trust him, after all this years, she now suddenly believed documents she had gotten from those two "persons", but of course they were her friends. He wanted to scream, yell at her "Am I not your friend, your lover, your husband. Why believe them over me, why?" He was desperate, but he didn't let it show. She was the one who pushed him back into the persona he had left behind so long ago. She wanted this, fine, he would once again become uncaring and heartless. She didn't seem to care anymore to look behind this façade.

She had started yelling now, and still all he could do was, standing there, looking at her, as if he didn't care. If she would only now take a second to look him in the eyes, she had always read everything in his eyes, then she had to see the truth. He felt sick and she didn't look once, too busy with yelling at him.

He only heard fragments "How can you" "I trusted you" "I hate you" "You sick bastard" "Biggest mistake in my life" "Were right from the beginning" "Am so stupid" "Say something" "Say something" "SARK, SAY SOMETHING"

Which did it, "Sark", those four letters, he knew he couldn't stay after she called him that, knew if he wanted to survive this, he had to get back to just this, being "Sark" She would never trust him again, that much he knew, and he didn't think he could forgive her for shattering everything to pieces, basing herself on documents, she hadn't even bothered to check; maybe after all what they had had, hadn't been so strong. He had made a wrong judgement, when he had thought their love, or whatever it was, was worth giving everything up, changing completely, letting somebody in, getting attached, and now getting hurt.

As if waking up from a daze, dismissing her yelling, he said "I think I will leave now." And with those words, he turned around and stepped away, stepped away from his life with her, from an honest life. She would never know the truth now, know that he had nothing to do with the crimes he was accused of in this folder. Going down the stairs, he once again assumed his old self.

She had made him more than just Mr. Sark, and now had reduced him back to it. He wasn't going to deceive her, it was all he could do to stay sane.

"Are you happy now?" he whispered in the silence before vanishing around the corner of the street.

******************

I don't really know where this came from, whether it makes any sense, whether it's good or bad, plausible or not, I just had to write it down. Inspired by "Are you happy now" from Michelle Branch, I guess, because I was listening to the song for at least the twentieth (?) time, when the idea popped into my head. Go ahead and read the sequel, it's called SHE; id: 1465514