Waking up to her is always nice. She's smoking more. My entire house smells like smoke. She only does it when she's stressed.
I don't ask. I don't hink she'd want me to. She doesn't like talking about feelings. She likes to pretend she doesn't have them.
Which is fine.
She notices I'm awake, castung me a glance before looking at the night sky through the balcony.
“Did you file the papers?”
I swallow. “No. That's what I wanted to tell you. I want to end this now.”
She snorts. “End what? Your pathetic attempt to keep me here, or your stupid idea that'd I'd love you back?”
I bite my lip. “Both. I'm gonna leave.”
She says nothing for a while. “You promised me—”
“It doesn't matter,” I turn over, facing the wall. “It doesn't f*****g matter, Wendy. There's nothing you need me anyway. The
