She is always signing things.
Adolescence flatlines into adulthood, her horizons reduced to desk space and re-election. Her job consists of few victories and a landslide of paperwork. Relena signs treaties, budget reports, receipts at the coffee shop in the spaceport, wedding ring loose around her finger.
She is 25, then 30, and she has almost managed to forget about Heero.
There are reminders, of course. But not many.
There are press conferences and sleepless nights and a persistent ache in her hand. Her husband doesn't call the office anymore.
When the divorce papers come, she signs those as well.