Back with another early upload! I wanted to upload a bit earlier because of the number of tests I have in school for the next couple of days. Again, thank you for all of the positive feedback! I honestly didn't expect this fic to do this well. This chapter is quite a bit longer and is kind of a twist on what could have happened during "Did Somebody Say Yoga?".

"I'm done."

Amanda opened her mouth to continue yelling at him before blinking at the conversation whiplash. "What are you talking about?"

Michael stood up, slowly wading out of the pool. He glared sharply at a smirking Fabien before he met her gaze again, eyes full of hurt and helplessness. "I said I'm done. I'm tired of playing this game, Amanda. Of seeing who hurts each other the most. We can get a divorce, fine, whatever the hell you want."

"Michael, I…" she managed to say, at a loss for words.

"Stop. Just...stop," he said, deadly quiet. His hand reached up to smooth the wet hair away from his forehead. "I get that you haven't wanted me for a long time...that's why you're screwing this prick. You stay here with the kids, I'll grab my things and be gone by tomorrow."

She almost laughed at how utterly fucked up their lives were. How could a failed yoga session turn into the thing that finally ended their relationship? How was he the one leaving even though he had every right to kick her out? Instead, she stood there, staring at him in shock.

"You don't need to say anything. Goodbye, Amanda," Michael said softly, brushing past her as he walked back into the house.

Fabien grabbed her hand, that smug smile plastered onto his face. "That man is nothing but a mass of negative energy. I am glad that you are finally free of him, my love."

Amanda shook his hand off with a disgusted look on her face. "I need to think about this. Just give me some alone time, okay?" She turned around to face him, putting on a faux smile. "See you later."

"Fuck…" she muttered under her breath as soon as he left. Her legs felt like they were about to collapse underneath her as she walked to her car. Michael was already gone, no doubt celebrating his newfound freedom, she thought bitterly.

Amanda drove aimlessly around Los Santos, trying to get as far away from the house as she could. Maybe if she went fast enough she could find herself back in North Yankton ten years ago, back when they were all happy. Before they had wasted their lives shouting at each other.

Moisture stung at the edges of her eyes. "Damn it…" she growled as she gripped the steering wheel tighter, letting the tears stream down her cheeks.

Every place she passed didn't fail to remind her of her husband. The docks where he kept that boat that he loved more than her, the theaters he used to drag her to see whatever corny movie that had come out, that strip club where he went the night he cheated on her...

Before long, she found herself back in the driveway of her mansion, not even really remembering how she got there. How she got to this point in her life, really. She didn't even notice Michael's car until he walked out of the front door, boxes of his stuff in his arms. Through her still blurry haze of tears, she nearly ran into him, eyes downcast so he wouldn't notice her puffy eyes or ruined makeup.

Michael left her without another word. Maybe it was wishful thinking on her part, but she could have sworn she saw tears in his own eyes.

Michael stared lifelessly out of the windows of his new, big apartment. New, big, and empty. It was a nice place, really, a penthouse right next to the movie studio and a view overlooking the city, but he had nobody to share it with. He supposed that was his own fault. It was his fault that his wife had cheated on him, it was his fault that he left two months ago, it was his fault that the divorce papers showed up a few days earlier.

He stood in his bedroom, glass of whiskey in hand, staring out into Los Santos to about where his- her- house was. He hadn't talked to her since the day he moved out, even though he had so many things he wanted to tell her. Those divorce papers had said enough for both of them, though, he reflected, downing the rest of the drink in one swift gulp.

A small smile crossed his face as he turned on his phone to reread the text from Solomon. At least there was one thing that made him happy now: his job. "Big night tonight…" he muttered as he turned to look in the mirror, adjusting his tie.

Amanda felt uncomfortable. At this bar or in this dress, really. A few months ago, she would have been all too happy to drink expensive alcohol in an outfit that was maybe a little too short for her and flirt with rich, younger men but ever since Michael had left, it had lost all of its appeal. It had been her daughter's idea to drag her here, though, one of her latest attempts to get her "back into the dating world," as she had put it. She suspected that it was more for Tracey's enjoyment than her own but she really didn't care. As long as she isn't out partying or auditioning for T.V. shows again, she thought, lips turning up in a smirk around the rim of her wine glass.

She set the glass down, only half listening to her daughter tell her about how Michael somehow had gotten an actual job as a movie producer. "He's like actually cool now," Tracey sounded surprised at her own words.

Amanda had to bite back a snarky comment about how he seemed happier without her. "I'm glad that you and your father have been getting along," was all she said before she turned around in her stool to face the rest of the packed restaurant.

Her eyes cautiously examined the crowd, feeling the familiar sense of someone's gaze lingering on her. A sense of horror started to wash over her as she realized that only one man had ever given her that feeling. One man with a stunning set of blue eyes eerily similar to the ones across the room that were staring back into her own.

She swiftly turned back to the bar, finishing over half of her drink in the process. "Maybe we should get going-" Amanda started nervously before being cut off

"Look at what we have here," a charming voice interrupted her.

"Shit…" she muttered under her breath as Tracey hugged her father, almost squealing in joy. Amanda still couldn't help but let a small smile cross her face at the moment. "Michael," she said nonchalantly, "you're looking well."

He really was. Gone was his usual layer of stubble, his clean-shaven face showing off his chiseled jawline. He was dressed in a tuxedo, just as he was the night they got married. And looking as handsome, too…

She mentally slapped herself, trying to get those thoughts out of her head. Michael, meanwhile, reluctantly pulled himself away from Tracey. "You're not looking too bad yourself," he smirked at her before turning to the white-haired man next to him. "Solomon, you've met my daughter."

"Of course! Lovely girl…" the older movie producer said before turning to her. "And you must be Amanda. Your husband is a genius!"

"You're too kind, boss," Michael replied, a rare twinkle of happiness in his eyes.

"Ex," she suddenly said. "We're getting a divorce." A pang of guilt hit her as the smile faded from Michael's face.

"Yep..." he said, gaze averting to the ground. He recovered quickly enough, that overconfident grin returning. "So, what are two girls like yourself doing here all alone?"

"Looking for guys," she deadpanned.

"Really?" his expression turned thoughtful. "Well...I happen to be a guy."

"Uh...and what about me?" Tracey interjected.

"There might be some actors that are scared shitless of me here…" Michael trailed off as he looked towards a group of younger men.

Tracey's eyes lit up in excitement. "Thanks, daddy. Bye!" she said, taking off to go flirt.

Amanda glared at her daughter as she left, blaming her for leaving her alone with Michael and his boss. Michael just smirked, knowing exactly what he was doing.

"Michael, it's been fun, but I have an early morning at the studio tomorrow," Solomon chuckled as he said his goodbyes.

"And then there were two," Michael said after his boss was gone.

"You're loving this, aren't you?" she asked bitterly.

He grinned at her and sat down at the now-empty barstool next to her. "Every moment of it."

She stared at him while he ordered a drink. What was she supposed to say to the man she hadn't seen in two months and sent divorce papers to not even a week ago? A glint of light caught her eye as he lifted his glass of whiskey to his mouth. "I see you're still wearing it."

A confused look briefly crossed his face before he glanced down to his hand, "Oh, it helps in this line of work, y'know."

She opened her mouth to ask what that meant before an image filled her mind. Young, pretty actresses flirting with the older, handsome movie producer, trying to get a part…

Warmth spread up her cheeks as she finished the rest of her drink, fingers curled in a death grip around the wine glass. Michael took notice, cocking an eyebrow. "Is someone jealous?"

"Not at all," Amanda muttered through gritted teeth, not meeting his teasing gaze.

"I'd almost believe that if you weren't about to snap this in half," he chuckled as he gently pried her fingers away from the glass before turning to the bar and ordering her another drink.

She smiled at him in thanks as she took a drink, needing all of the liquid courage she could get to get through the night. "So, what have you been up to? Actually, never mind, it's probably better if I don't know."

"Right back at you, but I'll have you know that I don't do that shit anymore," he said.

"Really?" she raised her eyebrows in surprise. "So, the things that I've seen on the news these past couple of months have had absolutely nothing to do with you?"

"Alright, alright, I've only been done with that for a couple of weeks," he admitted in defeat.

She chuckled, shaking her head, "You never changed."

"I could say the same about you, but I don't feel like getting into that right here," Michael let out a low laugh as his hand wandered over to hers, thumb running across her fingers.

To both of their surprise, she didn't pull away, instead looking sadly down at the ring on his finger. "How did we get here, Michael?" she wondered aloud.

The cool metal continued to brush against her hand. "Ah, let's see. I drove and you probably did, too…"

She slapped his arm, even as a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "I'm serious, you idiot. What happened to our lives?"

"I don't know…" his expression turned grim, smirk fading from his face. "Maybe we're just a pair of assholes, maybe we're a pair of idiots."

"Maybe…" she roughly pulled her hand away as the harsh reality of their relationship set in. What was she doing flirting with the man who had caused her so much pain?

He wordlessly downed his drink before turning back to her, eyes glinting with sadness. "Let's try to forget about that and have fun, okay?" he said, seemingly reading her mind.

Maybe she'd been drinking a bit more than she had promised. Amanda only realized this as she noticed the broadness of his shoulders, the way his muscles showed through the sleeves of his suit, how his eyes shined in the dim light of the alley next to the bar. The sound of his voice cut through her dizziness.

"Amanda?"

"W-what?" she managed to stammer out.

Smoke poured from his mouth as Michael let out a chuckle, lips curled into a smile around his cigarette. "I've been trying to talk to you for about five minutes but I wanna ask you when you started smoking again," he said as he put it out.

She saw a cigarette in her own hand and immediately put it out. "I don't know...since you left, I guess."

It was then that she noticed at how little space there was between them. "Why did you start?" his breath was warm against her lips.

"It…" she started, breath hitching as his lips met the side of her neck. "It reminds me of you," she whispered, practically seeing his pleading blue eyes .

He just nodded, too drunk to think of a response. His lips traveled over her neck, up her jaw, before hesitantly pressing them to her own.

Her hands tugged at his shirt as she pulled him closer. They kissed, putting an end to the teasing remarks and longing looks that they'd been giving each other the whole night. All of the pretenses dropped, only focusing on the way their tongues rediscovered each other's mouths.

His hands started to wander from her waist to her thighs, just about to get to the hemline of her dress when she rested her hand on his chest. "Michael…" she panted out as she pulled away. "We're drunk…"

"That doesn't matter…" he murmured insistently.

"Yes...yes, it does. This is a bad idea… we're getting a divorce and we shouldn't be doing this…"'

Michael staggered back, a betrayed look on his face. "Right…" he said, unable to meet her gaze. He called her a cab to take her home, not saying another word to her.

Amanda stared out the windows of her house, glass of wine in her hand. A storm raged on outside, the weather perfectly reflecting her mood. She couldn't stop thinking about the previous night, about the conflicting emotions towards her husband. Her phone buzzed from beside her on the couch. Speak of the devil, she thought as she looked at her phone, a new text message from Michael showing up.

"We need to talk right now."

"Fuck…" she muttered under her breath, not even having time to reply before the doorbell rang.

She opened the door to the sight of Michael standing in the pouring rain. She stood in the doorway awkwardly, unsure of what to say.

He smiled at her slightly. "Don't worry, I'll try to be brief," he said, glancing up at the sky.

"Michael...I told you, last night didn't mean anything-" she started.

His bitter chuckle cut her off. "It sure as hell meant something to me."

"We were drunk. Our relationship's been over for a long time," she said harshly.

"And why's that, Amanda? Let's not forget that you're not innocent in this, either," his voice had taken on an angry edge.

"Oh, let me think of some reasons…you murdering people, drinking and feeling bad about it afterwards, cheating…" she seethed, voice rising with each statement.

"That's real funny coming from you," he shot back.

She had to bite her tongue to keep herself from screaming. "At least I tried to repair our relationship before you did nothing and ignored me for years!"

"I had to play a role, Amanda. We wouldn't even be in Los Santos if it weren't for me! I did everything! Everything for you and the kids!" he yelled.

"What was that role, Michael? The cheating husband? The drunk, distant father?" she asked sarcastically.

His face fell at that comment. "Ah, forget this. I'm leaving," he turned around, angrily stomping towards his car.

"Oh, I'm not done yet," Amanda yelled, storming out into the rain after him. A little voice in her head wondered why she was even bothering, but now years' worth of bottled up emotions were surfacing.

"What if I'm done?" he turned back to face her. "I need to know something...something I've been thinking about. Do you really think that I wanted this? I never wanted to be that couple that got a divorce just because they didn't care enough to fix their problems."

A shiver ran through her as rivulets of water ran down the back of her tank top. Moisture stung at the edges of her eyes. She tried her hardest to convince herself that it was from the rain. "You could've fooled me," she muttered through chattering teeth.

"You didn't even try to help me once when I was feeling worthless, like I didn't have a purpose in my life anymore. You just sat there and whined about how 'pathetic' and 'psychotic' I was while I tried to deal with everything alone," he said, voice shaking in anger.

"How was I supposed to help when you were passed out from drinking too much most of the time and the other half of the time you wouldn't listen to a word I said?" she asked.

He sighed as he ran his hands through his dripping hair in frustration. "Did you think that fucking every guy you could find was the answer to that?"

"You started it," the words slipped out of her mouth before she could stop it. It was a low blow, she knew that, but it was all she had. Tears ran freely down her face as she waited for his response.

Michael almost laughed, as if knowing that it was her desperate last attempt. Instead, he ran a hand down his face to wipe away the water. "You don't think that I regret that every single day? I knew that I had made the biggest mistake of my life that night, that I was a stupid asshole but you made me feel even worse about myself. I drink to dull the pain of what happened that night and how it led to the only girl I've ever loved sending me those divorce papers a few days ago," his voice quivered and he wiped at his eyes as if to brush away tears.

Her body shook in anger, voice starting to rise, "Why didn't you just tell me? You get at me for being stubborn, but compared to you-"

Before she could even finish her sentence, he kissed her, hands resting on her cheeks so she couldn't pull away. She wasn't even sure if she wanted to, anyways. Too shocked to break away, she just let him kiss her, her arms hanging limply at her sides before resting on his shoulders, his jacket drenched from the rain. For a moment, she let herself pretend that everything was okay between them. The tears that he had always kept to himself ran down his face and into her mouth, the salty taste of them lingering long after he pulled away.

She stared up at him in confusion, about to ask him why before she heard his low whisper, "I got a job offer in Liberty City. That's why I was out last night, to celebrate. I thought that maybe after what happened, you would want me to stay here instead and try to make this work…"

"Michael..." she murmured, eyes going wide in horror.

"...but you don't want that, I get it," he continued. "This is the last time I'll be bothering you. Goodbye, Amanda," he breathed out as he turned around and walked towards his car.

Is this really how it ends? All because I didn't care enough to talk to him...she wondered. The rain mingled with her tears of frustration and self-pity as he walked away from her, away from her life. Before she knew it, she was walking too, slowly, then faster to beat his pace. She shut the car door as soon as he opened it and stood in front of it before kissing him.

Michael pressed her against the car door with a dull thud as he hungrily deepened the kiss, hands entangling in her wet hair. She pulled him closer, feeling his shoulders slump in relief as they kissed passionately. Their foreheads touched as they pulled apart for air, both breathing heavily.

"You were right," Amanda panted as she moved her hands to his waist, feeling his abdomen tense beneath her.

"About what?" he asked breathlessly, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

"We are idiots," she muttered regretfully.

He smiled sadly at her, bright eyes shining with drying tears and longing. Those eyes asked her a silent question, one that he couldn't bring himself to ask. "Please stay," she whispered, pulling him in for another kiss.