She hasn't contacted him in a week since the night he left. Normally, they'd text here and there as the day went on but they never went cold turkey even when she went to stay with Francis and Mary. They still asked the other if they were okay and how much they missed each other followed by tearful voice notes and venting as if they were still under the same roof because they are still Kenna and Bash who love each other hard just as much as they hurt each other hard.
But he called her a bitch and she called him a bastard.
She sighs, curling up into the bay window of their bedroom, watching the rainfall outside in the evening darkness with her phone in one hand and her hot mug of hot chocolate in the other.
She feels empty inside and she wants to take it all back but Bash doesn't respond unless it's a huge statement. He's closed off like that. She could literally be walking naked in front of him and he wouldn't be swayed until she initiated any form of sex. He's got to learn but then she groans and curses herself for punishing him and her because all she wants to do is be in his arms, make love, fix things and move on.
But love and sex aren't enough and if therapy is not even helping if he's away all the time to avoid going, their marriage truly can't be helped and Kenna looks around their lonely bedroom, wondering how she stuck this out for so long. All the lonely nights, crying herself to bed after lying to him on the phone that she was alright.
"This isn't living," she whispers into the darkened room. She calls his number, tears streaming down her cheeks. She suddenly can't speak when the tone picks up.
"Kenna?"
"Sorry, i-it's late, right?"
He sighs. "It's only twelve in the morning. I wasn't sleeping."
Kenna swallows hard. "Oh, okay."
"Is there... something you wanted?" He asks carefully. As much as he wants to apologise, he can't find the words to and he doesn't know if he even wants to at this point.
"You know I love you?" Kenna finally croaks out after a while, her breath hitching in her throat as she tries to hold her sobs.
His breath hitches in his own throat. "Y-Yeah. I love you too." But...?
"And I always will," she continues with a hiccup. "But I think it's best if we... separated. Properly. I-I can't be here anymore, Bash. I can't cope. I'm tired."
He's trying so hard not to breakdown and she can hear it in how he whimpers slightly and she closes her eyes, tightening her grip on her phone. She hates it when she hurts him and she knows it's just as painful for him to hurt her but they can't keep doing this.
"C-Can we talk about this when I get back?"
"No," she whispers. "We... are past that."
"You're not going to even let me have a chance to stop this?" He asks, his voice breaking.
She blinks her tears down her cheeks. "Bash..."
"Yes?"
"You and I both know this marriage was over two years ago," she states gently. "And if I'm honest, I don't want this anymore. This marriage isn't a priority to you, your career is and as much as I love and support you for that, I can't... I just can't wait here in the darkness, waiting for you to come home anymore. I am so lonely and the phone calls aren't enough, you aren't emotionally there even when we're in the same room... I need presence, Bash."
The phone call ends and Kenna stares at her phone in disbelief before it's ringing again and she answers the unknown number in confusion.
"My phone died," Bash explains tightly. "I was looking at photos of us before you called and I just..." He sighs heavily. "So the Alps is off the table, then?"
Kenna's lips break into a smile and she's laughing, him joining along and it will look crazy to people. Two people breaking each other's hearts, laughing about a trip where they contemplated having sex for most of it. 6 PM for her and 12 AM for him know all of their secrets and Kenna knows it might not ever be like this again.
"I love you," she breathes out when they've calmed down. "You should sleep."
Bash swallows hard. "Yeah. I love you too."
The call ends again and Kenna finishes her hot chocolate, continuing to stare out of the window where the rain is just starting to calm. She feels a weight lifted off her shoulders and soon she's sobbing all over again when she realises that she's rid herself of a stressful marriage.
Shakily, she places the mug onto the window sill and presses a calming hand against her chest. She feels an anxiety attack arise and she's been having them a lot more recently. They started when she first moved to France for university, the first time she'd ever been away from her parents and siblings.
Mary got her through those and eventually, Bash got her through them. He'd take her mind off them, taking her outside for fresh air or keeping indoors for sex or other things.
She starts singing through her sobs and hysteria and when she finally calms down, she can't bring herself to go to the bed and sleep and she curls into the soft matted seats of the bay window and falls asleep. It's not like she can sleep in that bed ever again. It's Bash's name on the mortgage due to citizenship issues when she applied for a dual-citizenship.
She shifts, mumbling incoherently about Bash not leaving her despite she leaving him in reality.
...
The first month sucks.
They are in October now and she's lost a lot of weight. She knows this because Mary draws her attention to it after Kenna refused to eat. She's staying with them for a bit, until Mary can trust her enough to look after herself but every time she sees Francis, his blue eyes, she thinks about his brother's blue eyes and how they must have dulled so much in sadness when she told him that they were separating. So she spirals further into her reluctance to do the basic human needs.
Anne plaits her hair and she gives the girl a wry smile before the smile leaves her face entirely. The girl cups her aunt's cheeks and rests her forehead against Kenna's.
"Mumma said that you and Uncle Bash are not together anymore. Is that true?"
Kenna sighs, running her fingers through Anne's locks. "Yes, sweetie."
"But you are happy together!"
Oh, childish innocence... You never know what's beyond the eyes. "We aren't happy anymore, sweetie."
"But Mumma and Papa said you were a fairytale dream come true in my bedtime stories! Like them!" Anne cries out in surprise. "A-And you were going to have a lot of babies! Like Mumma because," and she leans closer. "Mumma's having another baby right now."
Kenna blinks in surprise, tears springing to her eyes as she realises that instead of steps forward in her life, she's taking them back. Who knows if her marriage is well and truly over? Nothing's set in stone until the divorce papers are signed.
"Anne! Time for bed now," Francis says, grabbing his daughter under her arms and lifting her off Kenna before the adults watch her hurry out of the room and soon her footsteps are going up the stairs, calling for Mary. "Sorry, we were going to tell you..."
Kenna smiles, patting the space beside her and he sinks onto the sofa. "Congratulations, your sperm works."
He laughs and pats her knee. "Bash told me about the miscarriage and all of those lost pregnancies..."
"I know," she says and she figured he would have. He and Francis tell each other everything, they are the closest set of brothers in the world and they only share one parent. "When he needs someone to talk to, you're there and I'm happy that he has that in you."
"Is it really over? He more or less avoids answering," Francis asks softly.
Kenna shrugs. "I don't know," she whispers. "All I know is that I'm tired of the arguments, of the distance, of everything... really." She shrugs. "How far along is Mary?"
"About three months. We found out last week and Anne overheard us," Francis explains. "We wanted to wait until the twelve-week mark because we lost a pregnancy too, early in the year."
Kenna smiles warmly, keeping her gaze on her fingers. "I'm so happy for you."
"Look at me, Kenna."
"I can't," she whispers, sniffling. "Because your eyes are the same and... I hurt him, Francis but I'm hurt so much inside and I don't know what to do. Do I even have a home, right now?"
Francis cups her cheeks and she's forced to meet his eyes and she crumbles. She so wishes it was Bash. Anyone could see that he and Francis were brothers despite one being startingly blonde and the other being brunette. Those damn blue eyes. At least looking into Anne's doesn't hurt all that much.
"Maybe some breathing space will be all you need," Francis starts. "Restart, like a timer. Then work things through, find a new way to get through it together because you and Bash..., you're meant to be together and it hurts all of us that you guys are so unhappy together because you don't realise that despite everything. Sure, you make each other unhappy but what about the moments you made each other happy? Maybe you just need to go back to where it all started. And work from there."
"I can't," Kenna says firmly, pulling his hands from her face down gently and squeezing them. "We're not the same people we were in school, Francis. I'm not the same girl from then, and I'm sure as hell that I'm not the same woman from last month right now. I'm evolving. Backwards or forwards, I don't know but I am."
Francis sighs heavily and nods. "Okay. I'll head to bed but if you ever want to talk..."
"I've got Mary," Kenna replies. "I don't want to deprive Bash of you after all he's been through... God, is he even sleeping through his nightmares?"
Francis chuckles wryly. "And you say you can't work on your marriage when you're worrying about whether he gets his nightmares or not from another country to him."
"Just because we're not together doesn't mean I don't care about him," Kenna replies.
"Huh, guess so," Francis says, giving her a knowing look before patting her shoulder and leaving the room.
Kenna sighs heavily, deciding to head to bed herself. She gets up, turns the TV off and switches the lights off. A tug on her heart makes her pause by the stairs as she turns to the darkness of the downstairs.
I really do care about him and I'll never stop caring... Alas, it's not meant to be.
She's got to move on.
...
"Ro-Rowan, what are you doing here?"
Rowan smiles a little. "I've been brought onto the project. Your father called to say you guys need extra hands in the case of one of you taking a break and I offered since everyone else is not too willing to travel so close to Christmas."
Bash gestures for her to take a seat. They're in the hotel restaurant and he's nursing a glass of liquor, contemplating what his next steps are regarding his marriage.
"How's the wife? Kenna, was it?"
Bash stills. He doesn't know how to answer that anymore. Before she called about the whole separation thing, he's been telling people that his wife is well and at home with her flourishing event planning company and how proud he is of her, gushing like the lovestruck husband he is despite their terrible argument the night he left but that was the only time he's been asked because they had just met the clients. He never accounted for anyone else asking after her now that they're separated.
But he's an honest guy, no matter how much it hurts to admit it.
"We separated," Bash confesses, eyeing his wedding band.
Rowan gasps. "Oh, I'm so sorry," she says, placing a hand on his forearm in some sort of comfort. "You guys were lovely together and she was always nice during company events."
"That's Kenna... Nice," he says, taking a sip from his drink before looking around. "Do you want anything? It's awful drinking alone when you're in company."
Rowan chuckles softly. "I'll have a gin and tonic then if you're offering."
"I am," he says, waving a waiter over and ordering for her. Once the waiter's gone, he asks her, "So, how have you been?"
Rowan raises her brows. "Busy. Case after case. I literally finished one about two days ago before offering to come onto this one."
"Don't work too hard, you'll catch your death."
"Should say the same of you," Rowan replies. "Day in, day out. Trips around the world. I always questioned how Kenna would handle it but I guess she doesn't need to worry about that anymore, huh?"
Bash shakes his head. "No." And that's what destroyed his marriage.
"You need someone who understands," Rowan tells him, accepting her drink and thanking the waiter. "It's impossible to be on the same wavelength if you both work different hours. I bet you barely saw each other."
Bash narrows his eyes. "I'd rather not talk about my marriage," he replies. "I'm just here for a quiet drink."
"Okay," Rowan says, raising a hand up in defence. "I'll sit down and be quiet then."
Bash watches as she looks around, casually sipping her drink. He used to have quiet drinks with Kenna in front of the TV, snuggled into each other. Even on their most difficult nights, he'd nurse a glass of something strong and she'd brush past him, take a seat and wrap her lips around the neck of the bottle entirely before sputtering at him, leaving them laughing or in giggles.
He wishes Kenna was in front of him and not Rowan.