Work Text
She withdrew her hand from the flames as she heard his footsteps. She knew his steps, of course, different from the other six sets that often pounded across the floor. His steps, quick, panicked, faltering as he grew nearer.
“I…heard the smoke alarm. I was worried the kids…’ He trailed off, must have seen what she was burning, he had to know those envelopes as well as she did. The sprawling handwriting across the backs, her name spelled out on all of them. “Eliza…”
She straightened up, dusting her hands off, meeting his eyes. She felt different, wondered if she looked different from the way he looked at her, if she looked wild. She didn’t care.
“It wasn’t the kids,” she said flatly. “It was me.”
He looked exhausted, the shadows under his eyes more like bruises. More grey in his hair, more lines on his face. He could have been a stranger. But he wasn’t. She knew him, still knew him as well as she knew herself. Better, even, she didn’t know what she’d become. She felt as if a part of her was missing, burnt up in smoke like those letters.
“Eliza,” he murmured, eyes fixed on the floor. “Eliza, please…”
“Don’t,” she said, voice hard, an edge to it that she’d never heard there before. “Don’t you fucking dare with that.”
He was shaking his head, voice thick, words coming frantically. “I know, I know what I did was despicable, please, I already hate myself for it, but can’t we just…for the kids, Eliza, can’t we figure something out?”
She laughed. She actually laughed. It scared her, made her want to flinch like he did. “You want to ‘figure something out.’ For the kids. You’re still here, aren’t you?”
“Eliza, we can’t go on like this,” he groaned, rubbing his face. “You have to – “
“I have to what?” she snarled. “Make a decision? You mean move on. Pretend none of this ever happened. Let you back into my life and into my bed like our lives haven’t been completely ruined by what you did. All for the kids, of course, like you even give a damn.”
“Eliza – “
“And of course, it was so considerate of you to tell me yourself, five minutes before you put it on the fucking internet for the whole world to see.” Her face felt hot, tears swimming before her eyes but she was going to have it out now, because he was right. She couldn’t go on like this, in the stinging silence, feeling like they were waiting for a blow that would never come unless they did something.
“Did you think I didn’t know?” she demanded, tears rolling freely down her cheeks now. “Did you think I couldn’t tell something was wrong with you that summer? That something has been wrong for weeks, months, even a year? And I carried on and waited for you to tell me what I’d done wrong and did whatever you needed me to do in the meantime because I wanted to keep you here! I wanted to keep everything together, we built this whole world for us and you’ve thrown it all away like it meant nothing, Alex!”
He was crying too, shaking his head desperately. “Eliza, no, you have no idea how much this all means to me, our family…”
“But it didn’t mean enough for you to say no, Alex!” she cried, her voice cracking. “It didn’t even mean enough for you to leave your fucking desk for a summer!”
His excuses were feeble now, mumbled out between sobs. “They knew, they would’ve used it against me, I had to…”
“Somebody spreads a rumor about the damn government and you decided that you needed to tell the whole world you had an affair?” she asked incredulously. “An affair you had
two years ago,
while your family lived in ignorance and blind faith in you?”
She was done, finished, her whole being itching to leave, to get away where his eyes, dark and pleading with her, couldn’t reach her. She picked up the cardboard box she’d kept the letters in and made to walk past him, but he caught her arm.
“Eliza,” he breathed. “We can fix this. I’ll fix it, I’ll make it right. I’m still yours. I
am.
”
And wasn’t it all so tempting? One step and she’d be in his arms and he’d be holding her and he would kiss her and everything would be okay again. It would be like nothing had even happened.
She ripped her arm away from him with her last bit of willpower, all the fight gone out of her, leaving her trembling and sad and so, so tired.
“Don’t say that,” she whispered, her voice wobbling. “Don’t. You’re not mine.”
The look in his eyes, his beautiful eyes, almost shattered her. And before she could take all back, take everything back, she fled up the stairs, not even stopping when she heard him sink to his knees, sobbing behind her. He’d made his choices. She’d make hers. But not tonight.
Tonight, she would sink into the bed too big for one person and let herself cry it all out for the first time since she’d read his words on her computer screen. Tonight, she would scream into her pillow, grieving for her marriage, for her love, for those letters, for everything. She would sob for the beautiful life they’d created, not perfect but wonderful, a life she wouldn’t have traded for anything, the life that was now broken into so many shards like smashed pottery.
Tonight, she would cry. And tomorrow, she would keep going.