Well, it's been just about five years, and Y/N and Chris are better than ever. Of course, there are the occasional cheating rumor and the constant harassment. Not to mention the invasion of privacy. But, that's Hollywood.
Y/N is just starting to rea...
His words rang in my head most of the night. I didn't sleep. I couldn't. My eyes remained open staring at the ceiling and the light from outside falling in through the window. I questioned all night if the next fight between us the last fight was. The one where I can't fix it with puppy dog eyes and kisses. The one where we can't go back to being that couple forever stuck in the honeymoon phase.
I sighed into my cup of coffee, feeling the familiar weight of tears starts to build up behind my eyelids. I push through because I was too grown up to be crying at the breakfast table. Instead, I stood up, put my dishes into the sink as quietly as possible, and got ready for work and lunch with Quinn. I had been putting him off for the last few days when I know I shouldn't be.
After slipping into my shoes to top off my outfit, I grabbed my laptop and binder in the bedroom.
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Chris had his back to me, brushing his teeth in the bathroom. His back was flexed as he was hunched over the counter, spitting into the sink and running water. I watched for a moment until his eyes flashed to mine in the mirror. Usually, he would look at me with a loving glance. Like all was well. Yet, today, I couldn't tell where his mind was. His eyes were blank as they just stared at me. Like I was a stranger in my own home.
I looked away and finish packing my things.
"Your phone was going off this morning." He mumbled as he walked to the closet and turned on its light. I looked at my phone on the desk and rolled my eyes. "It's probably Ruthie. I'll call her back later." I whispered back. The tension was so thick; I was suffocating.
"No," He replied, "Unless Ruthie changed her name to Dallas, I don't think it was her. Is this who has your attention these days? Dallas?"
Finally, he turned to me, standing under the dimly lit closet, eyes piercing mine. I felt like he was reading every bit of my thoughts, my every feeling. Judging me too hard for something I would never do. Then, something I surpassed for a while came back up.
Anger.
"Can you stop accusing me of cheating on you?" I snapped.
Chris walked to me steadily, reaching his hands outward to my face.
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