Donna fidgets nervously with the torn up paper in her hands—the resignation she agonized over writing. She feels guilty. Of course she does. Harvey ended his relationship with Paula because he'd been forced to choose. When he ripped the letter in half, there was no pretending, no assurance in his gaze that she wasn't at fault, which had stung. She accepted her mistake, his resolution, and closed the door.
But hours later, her wine untouched and her mind sobering, she found her guilt being replaced by something else—frustration.
Yes, she put Harvey in a difficult position. But he put her in an equally and somewhat worse one. She doesn't believe his intent was spiteful. Yet, for a man who prides himself on loyalty, he didn't bat an eyelid speaking to Stu behind her back. Harvey blindsided her. Maybe he fought for her after the act, but lying by omission is still lying and nests just as much hurt—he taught her that.
So instead of letting the night dilute her emotions, and instead of letting him always wallow in his own needs first, she knocks on his door at 2am, her hand trembling as she balls it around the crinkled paper.
When he appears, his dress shirt crinkled and rolled at the sleeves, and his breath musty with Scotch, she isn't sure if he's grieving, angry, or simply lonely. But she's unsure of those emotions herself. She's been through a spectrum tonight, but the one thing she doesn't feel is relief.
Licking her dry lips, her voice croaks as she hands him the envelope back. "Here… Take it."
He does. Because she's telling him to, not because he understands the symbolism, and his jaw twitches.
She agreed to come back.
They moved on.
"I'm still the firm's COO," she answers his questioning gaze. She didn't come here to emotionally manipulate him. But his actions were a silent apology. They haven't conveyed any remorse, and in some instances words do speak louder than gestures. "I'm not leaving you, Harvey. But I was wrong about what I wrote in that letter. You were the one who let me down."
He isn't sure what to do with the attack.
It's late. He's exhausted. He fixed things. But if that were really true, she wouldn't be here, and he wouldn't be up drinking at 2am, feeling like shit because even though he devastated Paula, he knows he hurt Donna more. "I know," he admits quietly, not sure what else she expects from him.
She sighs. There's guilt wound in his expression, and he doesn't get a free pass just because he knows he did the wrong thing, but she needed to stand up for herself, and she has now. "I'll see you on Monday."
The turn around surprises him, and he doesn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth. Not everything has to be a fight. But when she turns, he calls her back. "Donna, wait."
His mouth hangs limply for a moment, before his jaw works to push out the regret he seldom feels. "I'm sorry… For everything," he adds. Because if she were to ask why he's apologizing, he's not even sure where he'd start.
Her shoulders relax, and she nods. "Thank you."
He doesn't ask her to stay, and she doesn't suggest they hug, but she leaves feeling lighter.
They're going to be okay.