A/N: Thank you so much for your lovely feedback on the first chapter! Your thoughts mean a lot to me. We're coming back to the past in this chapter, but it's still angsty... Still, I hope you enjoy the reading and please let me know what you think :)
Donna resigns from the firm a month after sharing the news with her husband, and the first few weeks feel like a new honeymoon. Aside from her regular yoga classes, Donna enrolls in theater classes to regain her artistic stride, spending afternoons and nights at home. Somehow, they manage to keep away their concerns about the uncertain future that awaits them, relishing the time they spend together. Harvey even delegated several cases to colleagues to prioritize moments with his wife, and they indulged in a short beach getaway.
Upon their return, Donna decides she's ready for the next challenge: landing a role in a play. The size of the part and the play itself are irrelevant at this point—she just wants to be back on stage.
True to her organized nature, she painstakingly prepares calendars and scripts, appearing as prepared as possible for multiple auditions. It's tiring yet exhilarating.
When a callback finally comes, Donna has lost count of how many auditions she's attended, but she no longer cares. She just grasps the opportunity she has been wanting for so long.
Rehearsals kick off sooner than expected, and after a long hiatus, Donna feels fulfilled both personally and professionally. At times, that satisfaction triggers a fear that it's too good to be true or that something might mar it.
Harvey pleasantly surprises her by adapting well to these changes. However, except for the absence of shared workdays—a void he feels daily—home life remains relatively unchanged. If anything, it feels even better. Now they miss each other during the day, longing for the moment to be together again.
However, the bliss is short-lived. The foundations begin to tremble as Donna starts spending four and then five nights away for rehearsals. Deep down, both knew this moment would arrive, but neither expected it so soon.
Harvey arrives home after Donna has already left, and she returns when he's already asleep. In the initial weeks, they yearn for each other in a way they haven't in ages, cherishing every shared moment. The kisses deepen, laughter becomes more genuine, gazes are more attentive, sex is more passionate, and conversations with a glass of wine feel more authentic.
Yet, it's just another fleeting honeymoon, cut short too soon.
When the nights of solitude start weighing on Harvey's shoulders, the ghosts of the past attack him once again. Sitting in his living room with the house dark, a scotch in hand, and jazz music in the background immediately transports him back to the loneliness and coldness of his condo in New York. The unspoken fear of being alone forever haunts him.
Damn it, he had grown accustomed to Donna's presence in his daily life and his home so quickly. When they got married and moved states, he feared it would take longer to adjust. The fact that he no longer had a place of his own to escape frightened him, and the fear of suffocation from living together felt real. But it didn't take him long to realize that there would never be enough time with Donna; they had already wasted too much time, and he didn't want to miss another second of her presence.
Harvey relishes sitting in his living room, a glass of scotch in hand and the soothing notes of jazz in the background, while Donna moves gracefully in her pajamas, organizing things that he believes are already sorted, though she insists they need her touch. Regardless of how often Harvey urges her to relax and join him for a drink, Donna prioritizes finishing her self-assigned tasks first; otherwise, she can't relax. Over time, he's come to appreciate these moments, becoming a silent observer of the simple yet beautiful aspects of her life.
Harvey enjoys working in his home office while listening to Donna's soft footsteps. Just knowing that she's there is enough for him.
Anticipation builds as he lies in bed, watching her go through her nightly routine, whether it's caring for her hair or following a skincare ritual that remains a mystery to him. Every night, he cherishes the intimacy offered by the slightly open bathroom door. He also enjoys slipping into the bathroom when she's in the shower. Sometimes, it's not even about sex; it's just the comfort of knowing she's there, sharing her life and intimacy with him.
Also, of course, one of the most treasured moments of his days is falling asleep with her in his arms. Holding her as she drifted into slumber is a practice he had initiated to aid her in combating insomnia, observing how, on more than one occasion, she effortlessly fell asleep on his chest and wrapped in his arms. While it's undeniable that it's not the most comfortable position for him, the knowledge that it serves as her safe place, a place where she can unwind and discover tranquility, fills his soul. Falling asleep enveloped in her presence is a privilege that he never grows accustomed to.
He also loves that, no matter the hour, the kettle starts whistling because she's making herself some tea. Or hearing the sound of the sliding door to the backyard open, knowing she's settling under the shade of the yellow tomato tree they planted together, or engaging in a bit of yoga. He even loves hearing her put on that stupid romantic comedy for the umpteenth time, a movie she adores.
Harvey revels in the invasion of every corner of the house by her essence—her presence, belongings, scent—creating an atmosphere that feels uniquely theirs.
And now, the house without her feels empty, cold, dark, and lonely. Just like his life in New York. If it weren't for the gray invading his hair and the new wrinkles around his eyes, he would think he was still stuck in his former condo and would be sure that all that happiness in Seattle had been just a dream.
The ghosts of the past assail Harvey once more, relentless and unyielding. He can't escape them; he can't find respite. They follow him everywhere he goes.
Just sharing his bedtime with his wife is not enough. Her belongings are all over the place, but it does not make up for her constant absence.
His home morphs into his worst nightmare. The sanctuary that once shielded him from the world's chaos now embodies his deepest fear: abandonment.
The habit of lingering late at the office reintegrated into his life. No longer does he delegate cases; he takes on as many as possible to drown the void of fear and loneliness. The files in his office ceaselessly accumulate, and that brings him a fake sense of peace. That, along with the scotch and the cigars. He hadn't indulged in cigars in a very long time, and he certainly hadn't consumed such copious amounts of scotch in years. Yet now, they seem to be the only things capable of covering the overwhelming sense of emptiness that consumes him.
Today marks precisely four months since Donna premiered her play, and Harvey sits in his office, not actively working but rather sipping his third drink of the night while gazing at the vacant firm through the office glass. He prefers observing his deserted workplace over facing his empty home. He only heads home when he knows Donna will return soon, takes a cab, barely brushes his teeth, and slips into bed in his pajamas, pretending to be asleep when she arrives.
15 minutes later, in complete silence, his wife goes through her pre-bedtime ritual, now extended since she began working in the theater, attempting to quell the adrenaline rush from being on stage. However, she no longer leaves the bathroom door ajar so that he can enjoy her intimacy. A painful and clear sign of distance from each other.
When she lies down next to Harvey, another 20 minutes have slipped by, and he is still awake.
"Did I wake you up?" she asks, knowing he was never asleep.
"Yes, but don't worry about it," he lies, and Donna feels a twinge of pain in her chest. These little lies have become so recurring between them, and being unable to trust Harvey feels like being on a rickety wooden boat adrift. "Was the play good tonight?" he asks, feigning interest in something he feels is robbing him of the life he once loved.
"Yes, it was really great," she responds, trying to hide some of the excitement she feels every time she talks about her new job.
"That's good," he mumbles, hugging his pillow tighter. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight," she murmurs back and adjusts herself, turning away from him and hugging herself to keep from shedding a tear. "Hey," she whispers after taking a deep breath. "Can you hold me for a while?" she pleads, hoping that some physical contact can ease the tension between them. "I really miss that," she confesses in a soft voice, barely louder than a whisper, as if not saying it too loudly would hide the vulnerability enveloping her right now.
"Yes, of course," he grunts and turns to encircle her with his arm, but he does so reluctantly. She notices it immediately: he doesn't get as close as he used to, and his body doesn't fit against hers like before, his arm doesn't embrace her; it just falls on her, and the distance he leaves between their bodies hurts. She contemplates getting closer to him, but she doesn't have the strength. Harvey is pulling away from her; not only can she feel it, but she knows it, and she never imagined it would hurt so much.
Donna can only endure that awful situation for a few minutes. She misses her husband's embrace, misses feeling him close, and misses that feeling of peace she felt every time he wrapped her in his arms. She wanted to feel the warmth of his body against hers, his breath against her skin, his hands roaming her body—not this awful attempt of a hug. And since she doesn't have the strength to argue, she just gets up to use the bathroom to get rid of the tears that have been accumulating all this time in her eyes.
As Donna gets up, Harvey curses himself. He knows he's not doing well. He doesn't need to be a mind-reader to know that things between them are far from okay, but feeling hesitant to embrace her is something he never thought could happen. He had spent so many years yearning to touch her, feel her, and have her close that not being able to hug her made him feel like the dumbest man on the planet.
But he couldn't do it anymore; it hurts him so much that Donna has decided to walk away from him like that so that he no longer has the strength to even try.
Unconsciously, he had started to distance himself before she could do it. Before she realized she might be better off without him.
His mind and emotions are tumultuous terrain, where scars from previous wounds dictate his actions. It's a defense mechanism, a self-preserving instinct that urges him to create emotional distance before the separation materializes. The fear of abandonment squeezes hard around his heart, urging him to shield himself from the inevitable pain.
Crying while drowning her sobs against a towel feels so pathetic, especially with the man on the other side of the door who, even a few months ago, would have done anything to calm her crying—the same man who would have delicately dried each of her tears.
Harvey, on the other side of the door, wrestles with his own internal conflict. The echoes of Donna's sobs reverberate through his mind, each one a painful reminder of the distance that has grown between them. He can almost visualize her tear-streaked face, and a pang of guilt tightens around his chest.
A few minutes later, as Donna lies back down beside him, his body yearns to turn towards her, to pull her into the reassuring embrace of his arms, whispering words of comfort and confessing the void her absence leaves. Yet the lingering shadows of doubt and fear etched into the recesses of his mind caution him not to do it. So, he stays there, motionless, begging that at least the warmth of her body spreads under the sheets and reaches him, along with her scent.
On the opposite edge of the bed, physically too close yet emotionally miles apart, Donna curls up in herself, hiding her sadness and frustration under the covers.
That night, neither of them slept too much. It's been weeks since either of them had a proper rest.
When his alarm signals the beginning of another day, Donna is already awake. The absence of the customary tender kiss on her forehead, once a cherished ritual, adds weight to the palpable ache within her heart.
In the not-so-distant past, Harvey's morning routine had been a symphony of affectionate gestures—a dance of love and care that extended beyond mere kisses. He would delicately tuck her into the blankets, adjusting her limbs to prevent discomfort and ensure the room was shielded from the sunlight. If time allowed, he would linger a few extra moments, their bodies intertwined, enjoying the warmth of the bed and her sleeping body.
Moving to the bathroom, he would leave her toothbrush and toothpaste neatly arranged on the counter. Her favorite cup was waiting for her in the kitchen, along with a funny note meant to make her grin in the morning before her mind was completely awake.
A glance at her phone would reveal a sweet message, a small yet significant gesture inviting her to initiate a brief video call, so he could at least see her sleepy, tender face for five minutes.
Now, Donna simply waits for Harvey's departure, concealed under the covers, as the silence becomes deafening. Every shared habit that has perished, every action that was once performed for each other and is now neglected, feels like yet another erosion of the foundations desperately trying to uphold their marriage.
She used to possess an innate understanding of how to handle Harvey. Doubts rarely clouded her judgment when it came to him or resolving crises with him. She knew him intimately, akin to the back of her own hand, or at least she used to. Now, uncertainty creeps in. Staring at her husband without recognizing him generates an awful feeling she struggles to manage, drowning in a sea of miserable guilt and overwhelming emotions.
She faces conflicting choices. Should she abandon the play and revert to her life at the firm? Return to her old life, reconstructing her marriage into a fairy tale? Or should she steadfastly uphold her decision, swimming against the current to salvage whatever fragments remain of her relationship with Harvey?
Together, they had endured innumerable storms, particularly in New York, where each break was followed by a huge crisis. But since that pivotal night several years ago, when Harvey knocked on her door and their relationship took the desired course, the dynamics of their crises have evolved. They had discovered ways to navigate challenges, emerging almost unscathed. While learning to be more communicative and not sweep issues under the rug was challenging, they had succeeded.
Yet now, it felt like they were reverting to square one, leaving her in a state of desperation. If Harvey were to ask, she'd abandon the theater and return to the familiar world of office life. She had already done so much for him, accepting that he was her Achilles' heel, and there seemed to be no limit to what she would do for him. However, the situation felt increasingly unfair.
She was aware that Harvey knew of the sacrifices and changes she had made in her life to make him feel better, stay close to him, and bring happiness into his life. Didn't she deserve the same in return? Or, at the very least, an effort on his part?
Within 15 minutes of getting out of bed, she found herself in tears. "Damn it," she growls, the coffee maker humming in the background as she reaches for her breakfast mug, only for it to wobble and shatter, leaving her standing amidst a thousand pieces with bare feet. Desperate to escape unharmed, she discovers her feet are already bleeding from at least two spots, which makes her curse even more.
She leaves a trail of blood drops on her way to the shower, where she hopes the warm water will either dissolve her or at least numb her pain.
Meanwhile, Harvey arrives at the office with a coffee in one hand and a bagel in the other, a stark departure from his routine breakfasts at the kitchen counter with Donna. It was fun to do it when Donna was by his side and he could watch her quietly drink her coffee, looking at a fixed point in front of her with her face still swollen from sleep and her red hair as messy as beautiful. Now breakfast at home just sucks.
The bagel drops on his desk as he takes a sip of coffee, momentarily comforting him, and then he slumps into his chair. He knows that a terrible migraine will hit in a few hours, so he searches his drawer for a painkiller and washes it down with coffee. He has a meeting in half an hour, so he'd better wake up and feel better soon.
However, the painkiller can only alleviate the impending migraine, not the void that continues to consume him. The same feeling of emptiness that engulfed him that night in his old office when Donna told him she didn't have everything and would leave his desk. It induces a familiar sensation—throat closing, difficulty breathing, loss of control, blurred vision, racing heart, sweaty skin, tingling in his extremities, unstable legs, and a clouded mind.
He isn't stupid; he understands that painkillers, cigarettes, or copious amounts of Macallan won't remedy the deeper issues. The control over his life is slipping away, akin to Donna slipping from his life. He wonders how much longer it will take for her to realize she'd be better off without him, knowing that when she does, his fragile house of cards will crumble completely.
• ∞ • ∞ • ∞ •
Donna's workweek comes to an end, and her castmates suggest going for a drink, as all their performances have been a success. She agrees, as at this point, any plan sounds better than going back home. Avoiding Harvey has become a habit she absolutely detests. Well, her marriage is turning into something she detests, and it's becoming an utterly unbearable feeling.
Donna is relieved to arrive home and find her husband asleep. Another feeling she despises. Being away from him meant being able to construct a false sense of peace that crumbled as soon as they were near each other. They had become two reactive beings towards each other. The slightest thing could trigger a war between them, and for that, they would stop talking; they merely coexist in the same time and space, almost like roommates.
She spends the next day off away from home, seeking to escape her reality as much as possible. She has breakfast at her favorite bar, takes a yoga class, returns home for a shower, and goes for a walk under the morning breeze. Later, she has lunch with Rachel and continues her day, filling her void by buying some clothing, makeup, and a new handbag.
She also considers trying out some new lingerie or a new nightgown. The mere thought, however, sends a pang of bittersweet nostalgia through her as she envisions how Harvey would have responded in the past to her wearing something sexy and new just for him.
She longs for the days when Harvey's gaze would linger on her and a magnetic force would pull them closer. The memory of his warm and rough hands exploring the curves of her body, fingers tracing pathways on her wet intimacy... How she longs to feel completely engulfed in Harvey's presence, his body flowing naturally into hers and compelling her to follow her instincts and pleasure.
As she contemplates the array of delicate fabrics and enticing designs before her, she wrestles with the paradox of wanting to feel desired for him again and the crushing awareness that if she buys some of these garments, it will only accentuate the chasm that has grown between her and Harvey. She leaves the store without even saying goodbye to the saleswoman, fighting again with the anguish growing in her chest.
As she enters the house, too immersed in her own pain, the sound of the door closing echoes throughout the house. With a sigh that empties her lungs, she takes off her coat and hangs it there, removes her shoes with her own feet, then kicks them into a corner along with the things she has bought. Her feet drag her further into the house, too wrapped up in how heavy she feels, mentally and physically, and she doesn't even notice she's passing by Harvey, who's answering emails on his laptop on the couch in their home. He looks up, expecting something from her, but she doesn't even look at him; she just continues her path to her room. With frustration and anger, he sets aside the laptop and follows her.
"You don't even say hello anymore?" He shouts, not bothering to hide his anger, as he enters the room.
"Not now, Harvey," she grumbles, not turning to look at him and searching for more comfortable clothes to change into.
"Not now? Then when?" he inquires, closing the distance between them, a palpable tension in his approach. "We've barely exchanged words for weeks," he grunts.
"Well, maybe we're reaching that point in a marriage where this happens. They say it happens to everyone, so why would we be any different?" She retorts, frustration etched across her face as she finally looks at him.
"Donna..." he murmurs, but it comes from deep within him.
"Well, at least you remember my name."
"What the hell is wrong with you?"
"What the hell is wrong with you?" She shouts back, her lips pressed together, in a pointless effort to contain her tears. The struggle not to break down in front of him has become an all-too-familiar battle. "You're the one who decided to turn this house into hell, Harvey. Not me."
"Are you sure it was me?" He asks, frustration and guilt bubbling within. "Because, as far as I know, you're the one who decided I wasn't enough and you needed more."
"No, Harvey. You're being damn unfair. And you know it damn well," she explodes, distancing herself once more.
"Me? I'm the unfair one here, Donna? You're the one who decided to stop sharing your life with me. You're the one who decided you were better off without me. You're the one who started this mess. Can you explain to me where the hell our marriage fits in all of this? What about us? Because I was so damn happy with you! I didn't need anything else. But apparently I wasn't enough for you," he yells at her face, all his pent-up frustration, and walks out of the room.
"I knew it! I knew that your ego wasn't going to allow you to adapt to something that, for once, I was asking for! Maybe you're right and you're not enough for me," she screams, trailing after him, her words piercing through him like a dagger. "Because if you were, you would be capable of sacrificing something for me. But no, the Lord always needs everything to be as he wants, because, of course, he's the center of the fucking world, isn't he?"
"Donna!" he yells, turning to look at her. The tension hangs thick in the air, and he senses that this confrontation won't lead to a resolution.
"What? Are you going to tell me I'm not right?" she asks wryly.
"You made me believe for 5 years that you were happy, and now it's my damn fault?" he yells, his eyes reflecting the hurt that Donna feels deep within.
"You don't understand shit, Harvey!" she yells back and turns to leave again. Staying would only further complicate the situation, and she desperately clings to any hope that remains.
"What is what I do not understand?" he snorts at her, grabbing her arm to keep her from leaving.
"Let me go now," she demands, her anguish giving way to anger, and he does, realizing that he's just been fucking wrong.
"I'm sorry about that, but please..." he exhales deeply. "I don't understand anything, Donna."
"I don't either, Harvey," she responds in frustration, pressing the bridge of her nose. "You always mix everything up. You're the person with whom I chose to share my life. My work is something else; it's different." She swallows her own anguish and continues, attempting to calm down. "For us, they have always blended because the lines between us have always been too blurred. But Harvey, I thought you would understand. My decision to change jobs has nothing to do with you."
"How does it have nothing to do with me if I'm the person it affects the most? You abandoned me, Donna."
"No, I didn't, Harvey." She shakes her head, wiping away her own tears. "I'm still here, willing to find a way to make this work again."
"It's a bit difficult if we hardly see each other, don't you think?" He screams again, unable to contain the boiling frustration within him. He yearns for a reset button to transport them back to their previous reality. He can't endure this turmoil any longer.
"I thought there was a way to solve this, but every time you make me feel that I'm more wrong. You're not able to see beyond your own navel, and I want a person by my side who puts my needs on the same level as theirs, not below," she tells him with a broken voice and leaves.
If they don't halt the conversation right there, everything will inevitably explode. And she still wants to try to fix this.