Wow...This is chapter two. I really wasn't going to continue this, but at the behest of Makai-Rahl and with the lovely encouragement of FFNRocks, I was able to find the impetus to continue. There's nothing I really have to say at this point but thank you very much, reviewers! And anyone who's reading/had read this fic, thank you. I'm just glad people are reading. Okay, before I turn into a puddle of mushiness, here's the disclaimer.

O.O.O.O.O.O.

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh!

O.O.O.O.O.O.

A simple gesture held the genuine intent of a thousand.

One look and she was revealed.

Mai didn't move, didn't speak, didn't even look at him, but he knew--

A brush of warm fingers on her knee. Short nails made contact with her skin.

She looked up, ear leaning toward her left shoulder. His right one reflected the image of hers, but his was more wide, a proud shoulder that expressed his confidence and masculinity.

With an expression kin to almost-embarrassment, he looked at her, then quickly away.

"You looked uncomfortable, so..."

The blonde smiled, conveying in the silence that there was no need for more to be said. The itch was gone and so were her worries.

Letting monotonous conversation wash over them, they endured the company dinner, hands clasped beneath the table.

O.0.0.0.O.0.0.0.O

Transparent?

Yes, Mai did suppose she was a bit transparent. But gullible? Too trusting? Too naive? No way. Yugi was too trusting and especially naive. Jounouchi was all three of these characteristics, especially gullible. The overeager shaggy-headed duelist was a volcano of wise-ass comments, all concealing a tender and unsuspectingly fragile heart.

The only reason she was mulling over personalities was because lately, that short-tempered, arrogant asshole Seto Kaiba was taking moments out of his precious schedule to sneer at her from the curve of his nose about her faults.

First, the insult was insidious. "Would you mind not leaving your cup in the sink?" Kaiba had sneered two days ago, holding up the crystal champagne flute disdainfully out to her. "You have two hands."

The bewildered woman had regained a bit of her spirit with that one thoughtless comment. She even remembered her stance: standing before him, fists clenched, legs rooted firmly to the freshly polished floor in an upside-down V, pale and shaking. She had caught a glance at herself in the newly-waxed tiled floor of the sprawling kitchen. Mai had to admit, she felt a bitter satisfaction in seeing herself this way. She was herself again.

Since they had hired help, the comment did anger her. But that was so small in comparison to the fact that he was speaking derisively to her.

But before she could respond (and she had a very fiery retort for his royal highness), he stalked out of the room without a glance or another word, muttering, "Slovenly." under his breath to himself as he left.

That had been the first face-to-face confrontation they'd had in two months.

She had hated the way her voice had coiled up inside her like a frightened animal when he spoke. And now, he was blatantly condemning her like a parent toward a disobedient child, dragging her retorts deeper into her voice box. It was the same formula with him, but it worked on her everytime: a dismissive flick of his wrist, a sneer flowing from his eyes, and then that exit. It was always him walking out on her.

Mai couldn't pin-point the exact moment when things went wrong: when the sweet nothings just turned into nothing, when Kaiba would leave without kissing her good-bye, when those notes--the damn notes--appeared on the fridge. The fridge had become their message board, their only form of communication. The woman had gone just about crazy talking to a kitchen appliance, so she wrote Go fuck yourself on a neon-pink Post-it and slammed it decisively on top of his reminder for her to lock the door before going out since their housekeeper was on vacation. Despite that bold statement, Kaiba hadn't responded.

All she knew was that one day, Kaiba just changed. The old Mai had flagrantly demanded an explanation. She had kicked things over, yelled, screamed, even cried, she was ashamed to admit. The powerful, no-nonsense Mai never cried, until he came and made her love him. But did she get a reaction out of him? No. She got nothing. Absolutely nothing.

After a while, her legs became sore with the effort, her toes complained achingly from the frequent violent contacts with hard surfaces, her eyes stung from crying, and her throat buzzed with the virulent expletives she hurled at him. Generally, Mai just got tired, damn tired, and settled into this new life. Soon, it was as if things had always been this way.

Had she thought about leaving him? Yes, she had considered the option many times. Many times, when the cold air surrounded her from the side of the bed where he was supposed to be. There were a million reasons that streamed through her head for his abrupt silence and his decided absence from her life, but one explanation stuck out at her: he was tired of her. Nevertheless, she was certain of his fidelity. There were no strange women calling him at all hours of the night, there were no streaks of lipstick on the collars of his shirts. He didn't smell like a heavy cloud of some other woman's sweet perfume or sport proud purpling bruises on his neck. Other than them not communicating, there were no tell-tale signs of an affair. Mai supposed however that if the intelligent CEO was keeping a mistress, he'd be very certain to be discreet with his actions, but that didn't really matter. He was smart, but she was just as intelligent, a fact she was certain he was aware of. The only thing Kaiba was getting busy with was work.

Mai supposed--no, knew--that she could leave whenever she wanted. Like a cat that just wanders out of a slightly ajar door, Mai could just walk away. She could leave a note on the fridge telling him she wouldn't be back. Or not. Kaiba probably wouldn't even notice she was gone. Or if he did notice, she was sure he wouldn't care. In that case, perhaps she should leave. He had little respect for her anyway. He treated her like a pretty vase resting on a table, as if she wasn't human. Kaiba just wouldn't change, and their love had died long ago. There was nothing to hold onto except...

The past.

The past was keeping her tied to his uncaring side.

The way things used to be.

Sweet and caring, loving and gentle.

A hand perched on her knee.

Fingers casually placed on the small of her back.

The gentle brush of crimson lips she'd greet his ear with.

Those memories danced in a taunting ring around her, boasting, "You'll never get away. You'll stay and get hurt, over and over and over..."

But Mai's strength had returned. Not a huge quantity of it, but enough.

Enough to tell her heart what she had to do.

She had to leave him.

She had to leave him, but first she was going to make him talk. She'd make him look her in the eyes and explain why things had changed.

It was the loss of love that made her have to come to this painful decision.

To cut the ropes that were imprisoning her here, in this lonesome, empty house, with nothing but memories of him.

After all, a person cannot be happy only with memories. Memories were nice to look back on, but Mai had no desire to live in the past. Even when diving into the old days, she found not solace, but a painful sweetness that was slowly destroying her.

It was the times when she felt like this that made her truly despise him.

He gave her something so wonderful, and in the same instant took it away.