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He doesn’t sleep the night she leaves. If he wakes up in the morning, she won’t be there, and everything will still be real and still hurt like hell.
Two days later, he decides she’ll be back. It’s just a fight; they’ve had those. They always work it out.
Three weeks later, he hasn’t heard from her, and he feels desperate for the first time. He works instead, the office a revolving door of people looking for the Saul Goodman touch.
Two and a half months later, he sees her across his desk, eyes carefully blank, sliding a sheaf of papers over. Dissolution of marriage. Her shirt is the same peachy colour as the sweater she was wearing the night everything crashed down. He hates himself for noticing.
He signs with a little more extravagant flair than usual, pretends not to notice the way her face crumples nearly imperceptibly when he tells her to have a nice life. Pretends not to notice the way Francesca cuts her eyes at him for it.
Truly, he does hope Kim has a nice life. It’s just bullshit that she didn’t think she could have it with him.
They’d made each other happy, once.

admiralty Thu 11 Jan 2024 06:46AM UTC
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loveleee Thu 11 Jan 2024 01:05PM UTC
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