"Monotony is the most beautiful or the most atrocious thing. The most beautiful if it is a reflection of eternity - the most atrocious if it is a sign of an unvarying perpetuity. It is time surpassed or time sterilized. The circle is the symbol of monotony which is beautiful, the swinging of a pendulum of monotony which is atrocious. — Simone Weil

Chapter 19 (Final Chapter)

#

I'll never forget when I realized "elbow grease" was nothing more than a saying for putting forth stronger effort and not an actual product. I was 15, helping my Mom, and tasked with cleaning the lasagna dish from dinner. Of course, the baked cheese wouldn't come off, so I asked her where the elbow grease was. She laughed, and laughed, and laughed until tears rolled down her cheeks.

I always think of that moment when I am struggling to clean a pan with cheese insanely adhered to the sides. How the hell baked ziti causes this much extra effort to clean a baking dish will forever mystify me. And that's with using cooking spray.

It's late, and I'm doing my best to be quiet given the kids are in bed, but I am struggling to clean off the pan. Finally, with a sour pucker, I reach for the dish soap, pour an unnecessary amount in the dish, and let the hot water run.

Soak on that, bitch.

I watch as the bubbles form, rising higher and higher, only to startle out of my focus when I hear a tapping at the back door. I look at the clock, 10:40 p.m. reading back at me, and shut the water off. Who on earth is coming by this late at night?

I quickly pull off my yellow gloves, place them on the edge of the sink, and turn off the faucet. I grab a towel as I walk toward the back doorway, expecting to see … well, almost anyone. A friend. A neighbor. A robber. Almost anyone but Seiya.

I freeze, my body so stiff that the damn towel movement has suspended. Against the twelve-windowpane door, his fist is knocking the glass gently. He's staring at me, and even with the porch lighting I can see the desperate look in his eyes. I shudder when a muffled 'please' travels through the glass, and I find myself at a crossroads.

I could tell him to fuck off and get the hell off of my property.

I could turn around and walk away and not give him the privilege of my breath.

But… he could have the signed divorce papers.

Or, maybe he's coming to dispute the splitting of the assets. Well, fuck. If that's the case, his attorney can contact mine.

"Serena, please," he says once more, and I bite back the bitter taste in my mouth. Because I know I'm going to let him in and let him say whatever stupid shit he's going to say. Because I am an idiot.

With a dejected sigh, I drop the towel on the table and make my way to the door. I twist the brass lock and pull at the handle, allowing this man, who once shared my home, to enter. At his own risk, of course.

He walks in slowly, and I do my best to ignore the sound of his black boots walking on the tile. The all-too familiar scent of Ck ONE wafts, and I am internally pleased that my body doesn't respond to it the way it used to.

Because I'm absolutely disgusted by you.

Seiya's hands are fidgeting, his default nervous tick. I hate that I'll always know those small details of him and his habits; it's part of the beauty (burden?) of being with someone for over thirteen years. Yet, you weren't able to tell just how far his lies would go, so how well did you actually know him?

"What do you want?" I finally ask him as I cross my arms. He leans up against the wall, and I watch as he stuffs his hands into his leather jacket. Seiya's eyes are downcast, as if he's picking a tile to stare at, and for the first time I notice he's not carrying any paperwork or envelope. So, no signed divorce papers.

Damn.

He doesn't answer right away. Rather, he clears his throat, another nervous tendency of his. Only, I couldn't care less if he's nervous. I want to know why the hell he is standing in my kitchen.

I eliminate the pause. "Seiya? Why are you here?" I press, allowing my displeasure at his presence to prevail. I don't want him here. I hate him so much right now. I hate what he's done to me, our family, how he's broken us and hurt us more than I could have ever imagined. I hate how much my kids hurt, how our lives have changed drastically since that fucking Christmas party, and how he couldn't be honest with me sooner.

Why couldn't he have been honest with me sooner?

When he looks up, his navy eyes looking directly into my own, I see it: regret. Pure, raw, and complete remorse.

I swallow, hard. I haven't seen him look so vulnerable since…

Never, actually. I've never seen him this susceptible.

"I'm sorry," he begins, his voice soft, broken. "I'm sorry to be here so late. I know it's… late." I nod, allowing him to continue. "I just…"

He tears his stare away from me and looks out at the kitchen. His eyes scan the area, and it's obvious that I was working on cleaning up dinner. Like clockwork, I'm always in the kitchen cleaning dishes at 10:30. And he knows it, too, because I see the recollection in his features, followed by his eyes squeezing shut for a moment.

He lets out an exasperated breath. "I fucked up."

"Yeah, you did," I quickly bite back with confirmation.

"I… I should have told you years ago. I… I haven't been happy in a long time. A long time," he repeats, his right hand gripping and pulling at his thumb. "I don't know if it was giving up the band, or just, losing ourselves along the way, but…"

"I told you not to give up the ba—" I start to interject, but he cuts me off.

"I know, I know. You did tell me that, many times. I just… I don't know, felt, like I had to? But then after a few years, I felt like… I wasn't me, anymore. Like this part of me that was so important just… died."

I press my lips together, forcing myself to keep my words, and my emotions, down. Because I know exactly how you feel.

"I didn't mean to hurt you, Serena. I… I got so lost, trying to be this version of an adult that I wasn't ready to be yet, and… I threw you under the bus for it. You didn't deserve that," he says sadly, his head shaking. "You didn't."

Don't cry. He doesn't deserve your tears. "You cheated on me."

"I know."

"For months," I spit out, trying my damnedest not to choke on the words. "Almost a year."

"I know."

"While I was home, with our children."

"I know, I know," he confirms with an added slam of his fist against the wall. His hands immediately make their way to his bangs. "I know."

I pause, because I know if I say another word, I'm going to cry. And this man… he does not deserve my tears. Because I am better than this. I am better than him. I am stronger, damn it all.

But holy shit does this hurt. A lot.

"I miss them," he finally says, catching my guarded stare once more. "I miss them so much."

"They're mad at you," I relay, but the brusqueness of my tone has dropped significantly. Because deep down, I know that they shouldn't be kept from him, even if it is their choice. It's like I keep saying to myself: they didn't ask for this.

"I know they are. I just…" Seiya shakes his head again, and I am startled to see his eyes starting to gloss. "This is the longest I've ever been away from them, and…" He looks back down towards the tile. "I'm not asking you to forgive me. I'm not. But… please, Serena, please. I can't stand them being mad at me any longer. Can you… can you help me? Can you ask them to please see me so I can tell them how sorry I am for hurting them?"

I quickly wipe at my eyes before I allow a tear to escape, but it's for naught. Because… yes, even though I can't forgive him, he is their father. And to see him so compassionate about his children? That … means a lot to me.

I don't trust my voice. Not right now. I nod my head slowly, and the look on his face transforms significantly. Because he knows… he knows I'm not someone who will keep him from them. Even in all of my anger, I would never deny him his children.

"Thank you," he whispers. I nod once again, a little quicker this time, before crossing my arms once more. He doesn't linger, rather he slips his hand into his back pocket and produces a very familiar piece of paper.

"I've signed them. No contesting."

I blink wildly. No contesting? "Seiya, I –"

He shakes his head vigorously as he extends his arm. "I should have been honest with you. Maybe if I had been, we might not have gotten to this place. I wouldn't have been so awful to you."

I hesitate for a moment, but I grasp the paperwork. "Thank you."

We remain still for a moment, and I can't help but absorb the finite feeling in the air. Because once he walks out those doors, it's officially over. I'll file the paperwork tomorrow, and we will no longer be bound to one another.

Even though I know I don't love him anymore, I can't help but feel sad. But it's a good sad, like finishing a story that kept you on your toes for months. We give each other one final look before he walks out the door, and the moment I hear the latch click, I release a long, steady breath.

I half expect myself to tear up, but I'm not surprised when it doesn't happen. I mean, I'm still angry. But, I'm also at peace with the decision, because he finally admitted why he was so miserable. If anything, that makes me sad, and the fact that he couldn't talk to me about it shows me that we weren't meant to be. No; partners are meant to communicate. They tell each other their hopes, their dreams, and lean on one another when times get tough. And Seiya and I… we didn't have that. Maybe once upon a time we did.

I made it clear that I struggled with my identity. He knew how badly I wanted to go back to school. But… he never cared, either. Not like Darien. The moment I panicked, telling him how I couldn't and just unleashed my fears, he talked me through them. That is what a partner is supposed to do.

And I would have. I would have encouraged Seiya to pick up his guitar again. The fact that he couldn't talk to me? That almost hurts more than the cheating. Almost.

I look down at the papers, his signature next to mine.

He agreed to the alimony.

Which means… I really can make it happen. I can go back to school. With the support of work and the alimony and child support, plus my own salary, I can work, go to school, and still support my children.

I let a smile break out, despite the lingering sadness in my chest. It will be tough, but I am ready to face the challenges ahead.

I drop the paperwork on the table and return to the sink, staring at the casserole dish full of bubbles. Elbow grease. It's going to take a little bit of elbow grease, but, I will do my hardest to have a civil relationship with Seiya. Not friends per se, but civil. Alex and Elsie need a relationship with their father.

I'll probably always be angry with him, but the anger one day will subside. Our history will remain exactly that – history. As long as he is a good father to our children, which I know he will be, then there is nothing else that needs to be said. If I remain angry, so will Elsie, and so will Alex.

It won't be easy, but for them, I can reign in my anger. Maybe once they see I'm not as mad, they won't be.

One step towards forgiveness. For all of us.

#

6:45.

My eyes linger on the number a moment longer than necessary. Red digits stare back at me, and I feel… not rushed, which is very weird. In the background, I can hear drawers closing in Elsie's room, signaling to me that she's getting ready for the school day. I pause and think back to the last time I actually had to bang on her door to yell at her. It's been at least a month.

I smile to myself; it feels amazing not having to shout at this hour.

I stand in front of my dresser and finish my own task of getting dressed. I focus on my reflection as I slip the buttons through their respective holes, mentally applauding myself on the selection of the navy top with the gray pants. Once my task is complete, I pull my hair into a ballet bun, twisting my blonde hair into a dumpling shape before pinning it at the base of my neck. I grab my new favorite tube of mascara and quickly brush the product against my lashes, depositing it into my make up tin almost as quickly as I picked it up. When I look back at myself, I feel confident in my look for the day; professional, modest, neat. I quickly smooth the material on my abdomen, nod at myself in the mirror, and then turn my attention towards checking on my almost ten-year-old son.

As I walk out of my room, Elsie's door pops open. "Morning, Mom," I hear my daughter say as the door opens wider, and I can't help but smile again.

"Good morning, baby. Sleep well?"

"Mmhmm," she replies with a nod before she disappears back into the room, followed by some more shuffling of stuff.

I poke my head into Alex's room. "Hey bud, you awake?" I ask my son, who is laying in his bed in his usual Nike attire, taking notice that his black hair neatly parted and slicked back. I half-expected to see him on his laptop, playing that Fort Nite game, only to blink a couple of times in shock to see he was reading a book instead.

I knock on the doorframe softly, feeling slightly bad when I startle him out of his focus. "7:00 bud. You've got less than 30 before the bus."

"Yeah, Mom, I know. 5 minutes?" he asks; his dark blue eyes casting a pleading look.

I smile and nod. "Of course. Breakfast in ten. Sound good?"

He nods before his eyes slip back down to the pages, but I linger a moment longer to catch a glimpse of the cover. I am both surprised and elated to see Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets staring back at me. Now that's a fantasy realm I can get on board with.

I shuffle down the stairs, currently vacuumed and absent of clutter, and into the kitchen where the coffee maker beckons me once again. I don't think I'll ever stop consuming the unhealthy amount of coffee I drink before 7am, but fuck it. There are worse ways to die. Pouring myself yet another cup, I stare out to the vacant kitchen table, waiting for my children to sit in their respective seats.

I lift my mug mechanically to my lips as I watch them file to the table. First to arrive is Alex, who quietly tucks into his bowl of cereal, his book placed beside him. Elsie is next to skid in to the kitchen, dressed in her typical fashion: her long, black hair pulled into a messy top-bun paired with leggings and a hoodie. Always leggings and a hoodie. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

My eyes glance away from the table and to the activities calendar I mounted on the fridge. I stare at the calendar with snapped eyebrows. While Elsie has dance and Alex has soccer right after school today, we're all home today by 5:30. That… hardly ever happens.

I look back to the table and watch as both kids slurp at their cereal. Elsie taps at Alex's book, and then the unspeakable happens: they engage in conversation.

"Like it so far?"

"Yeah, it's really good."

"Which chapter are you on?"

"Five."

"Oooh, on their way to Hogwarts. That's probably one of my favorite chapters."

I tune out of their conversation and let them continue to have their sibling moment because, if I'm being honest with myself, if I listen any further I might cry. With everything that has gone on the last year, from their Dad and I always fighting, to the separation, now the divorce, their worlds have been rocked. To watch them have such a normal exchange, it… it's a sign. That everything is truly going to be alright.

However, the moment they begin discussing Mr. Weasley's enchanted car, it gets me thinking. A car. We still don't have a car, and the rental we've been running on the last month has been less than exciting.

I can't help but interrupt. "Hey kids – want to go with me to buy a new car tonight?"

They stop and look at me, and their eyes widen. Their excitement is infectious; once they get a big smile on their face, I can't help but grin along with them.

"Yea!" they cry out in unison.

"Can we get something cool?" Alex immediately suggests. "Like a sports car or something?"

I can barely hold back a laugh. "A sports car?"

"Yeah, like a corvette or something!"

"Can we get a convertible?!" Elsie chimes in, and I officially can't hold back the laughter.

They truly are my children.

"We can look, but I love the way you guys are thinking," I reply with a wiggle of my eyebrows. With that, they both start shouting out their suggestions on color, makes, styles, their ideas growing bigger and bigger as they list off more and more features. My eyes drift over to the clock, and I am alarmed when I have to call out "7:28!" The familiar noise of chair legs scraping their way against the worn-out wooden floor replaces the chatter. Both kids pick up their backpacks and shout their goodbyes down the narrow hallway that leads to the front door, leaving me alone with my thoughts once more.

I stare back out to the kitchen table, two empty cereal bowls waiting for the dishwasher. For a brief moment, I can feel Seiya's absence, but the thought is as fleeting as a snowflake in July. I place my coffee cup on the counter and make my way to the table and grab both of the empty bowls.

I smile again.

A year ago, I was standing at the countertop, an empty shell. I was lonely, miserable, overworked, and overtired. I was yelling at my kids to get on the bus, having dull, lifeless conversations with my husband, and struggling to make schedules meet.

And now? Yes, there's still routine. There will be good mornings, like today, and bad mornings where I'm pounding on Elsie or Alex's door to wake up. There will always be moments of repetitiveness, such as cereal consumed and bowls left on the table as they run out of the house to catch the bus. Life will go forward.

I place the two dishes on top of one another before I cast a glance at my own pile on the table for work. A protein bar to munch on my way to work, prepackaged bow of salad, my purse, the signed paperwork… and my LSAT study guide.

Life will go forward, yes, but I'm not going to remain stuck in one devoid of excitement any longer.

It's time for me to move forward as well. With my children by my side and the support of my colleagues, I am ready to commence the next phase in my life.

Just as I am about to finger through the pages of the study guide, I hear my phone ding behind me. With a quick glance of the screen, I scoop up my materials, my bag, and slip on my coat before I do a final once over of the house. The coffee maker is off, the pot is in the sink alongside the dishes, and I am good to go.

I practically skip towards the front door, and I feel the butterflies of excitement swirling around in my stomach. Not willing to delay the anticipation, I clasp the handle and all but throw open the door and I am greeted with an apparatus of perfection. Sleek. Smooth. Sexy.

The Masarati.

Darien is leaning up against it, his grey suit a sharp contrast against the vehicle. I mentally snap a photo of this scene, because… damn. All I need is Darien in those form-fitting boxers that he wears that captures the curve of the muscle in his thigh… mm. Yum. I pretty much skip down the steps, basking in the sunshine and the morning dew, and up to the man with the beautiful smile.

"Morning, sunshine," he greets me as I approach, and I can't help but grin wider.

"Good morning." My heart begins to thump wildly as he leans in, and I am all too willing to reciprocate the motion. It's a brief touch, but it's… perfect. The feel of Darien's lips against mine will always be perfect.

"Ready?"

I nod enthusiastically. "Yup!"

"Great. You drive."

I freeze mid-step. "I… what?"

He returns a coy smile that reaches his eyes, and I feel my heartbeat speed up. Is he… is he serious? IS HE SERIOUS?

He doesn't answer, all he does is tip his head back and let out a playful laugh. I am briefly dumbfounded, but quickly snap myself out of it as I all but dash to the drivers seat and slide into the vehicle. My eyes float around the cabin, flicking between the dash and the wheel and the delicate stitching of the leather on the gear. I cautiously rest my hands against the steering wheel, my palms falling into the intentional indents built in to the material. I let my fingers curl around, and in this moment it feels… real.

"Ready?" I nod vigorously as I look at him, his finger pointing at the start button and explaining to me that I have to step on the brake before I press it. My legs quiver as I adjust my seat and press my foot against the brake. With a deep breath, I press the start button and allow the car to come to life. I close my eyes and feel the power of the car course through me, and I can't help but grin one of those humongous, teethy smiles. This is way better than any fantasy.

I reach for the shift gear and put it in drive and without further delay, press my foot against the gas and pull out into the road. As the car makes its way up the road, I can't help but start laughing. It's amazing that such a small thing, like driving a car, can make me feel so… so…. freaking happy!

We pull onto the highway, and I let my confidence and my foot accelerate the vehicle. But as I relish in this magical moment, one that I will always treasure, I can't help but circle back to the fact of the matter that things have changed.

And while I know it will be hard work, I am ready to become this new, empowered woman in this world:

The single mother.

The coordinator.

The student.

The assistant.

The lover.

In this moment, this crystal clear moment…

I am breaking monotony.

The End

AHHHHH! I CANNOT BELIEVE THAT THIS IS COMPLETE! When I began this story in June 2018, I a.) never thought it'd take me this long to write it, and b.) never thought I'd have so much support from all of you in this alternate universe story. I did my best to stay true to the characters, despite throwing them in a very real-world situation. I live in the United States, and we have a very sad, very real statistic: more families in America have a pet versus both of their parents in their home. Of course, there are so many factors that go in to that, but when you factor in that between 40 – 50% of marriages end in divorce in America as well, it got me thinking: what would happen if Serena(Usagi) was in a failing American marriage? How would she balance her work/life? How would she respond if she was in this endless cycle of putting everyone before herself? And, finally, what would happen if you threw in someone who made you feel things you haven't felt in a long time?

And thus, the story was born!

I want to extend a HUGE, HEARTFELT THANK YOU to all of you, the readers and reviewers, for your continued support as I worked on this story. This 18+ month journey would NOT have been possible if it wasn't for you and your encouragement, inspirational words, enthusiasm, and commentary. So thank you Queen Risa, CassieRaven, SailorGuardian314, NikkiBC, mryann, 6Zo0Q, Coco Moon, MyIndy13, Moon Bunny, phillynz, Sessediz, TropicalRemix, Roxypockets1, Antigone2, judeohcop, raye85, Thatycharacter, kamijin, dayfreshie, gwhitaker87, Astraearose-silvermoon, Revy679, sailorvsredmask, ShAnTaLy, Syulai, Latebuttruefan, thekatxx, tryntee13, StoryUnfolding, DarkenedHrt101, SailorMoon489, Golak, Beej88, Krys7, Perfect Beauty, mikananatsume1228, sailormama, Starling Sinclair, TikiCheeky, schwartz, My Veggie Burger, BetaBlue1, bitbit2084, Xo, haruka-usagi-forever, usanotsuki, kamijin, Oloferne, mali86, Zanahana, and all of you wonderful Guest reviewers, for your endless encouragement (and of course, to anyone I may have missed!).

And a very special, heartfelt gushing of gratitude to Pia Bartolini, whom has quickly become a very good friend both in our amazing fic/Sailor Moon world and in the real world. Despite everything going on in your life, you took the time to help me create this story with your attention to detail and your never-ending support. If not for you, I don't think this story would have been as successful as it was. Thank you SO MUCH for playing such a big part in this journey.