We're done

Greg met your eyes, and your heart sank. Those eyes used to look at you with love, admiration, and friendship, but now they were just full of disappointment and anger. "Stephanie, I can't do this with you. Not anymore. You've lied to me, you've cheated on me - twice! Hell, this Jonas guy was probably a damned criminal! Did you even think of that? I'm a fucking cop!"

You closed your eyes and let his words wash over you. It was over. You'd told him everything, and he didn't want you.

Greg was picking up steam, releasing an angry cascade of words, "You might be going through something, but even with some breakdown or something you should have *told* me about it! Instead you just went and got drunk with some bimbo neighbor! God damn, Stephanie!" He brought his hands down on the coffee table, hard.

"I'm sorry." You said it again, your voice tiny. It was all you could think of to say.

To your surprise, there was nothing but silence to meet your words. Then you heard a light clink on the table's wooden surface. Greg's voice was soft when he answered you. Terribly, crushingly soft, like ****. "I can't do this... I'm done. You need some sleep, so you can stay here tonight, but you need to be gone tomorrow. I'll have your things gathered up and sent wherever."

You looked up through a wash of tears that wouldn't stop, and sobbed again, seeing the wedding ring on the table and Greg's back as he left the room.

A crushing tide of loneliness, regret, and self-pity swallowed you. How... How did this happen? Dimly you were aware of doors opening and closing, then you looked up again to see your husband standing in front of you again.

He looked so tired, so sad, but his eyes were still full of disgust when they met yours. You looked away, feeling ashamed. His voice came from somewhere above you, "We can work out the details later, Stephanie. Maybe... nah. I'll be at a hotel tonight. Goodbye."

A door opened, closed. A car started, and faded to silence again, broken only by your own sounds of self pity.

Time passed, hours or minutes, you had no idea. You felt like a zombie as you dragged yourself up the stairs to the bedroom, and barely had the sense to set the alarm before you passed out, still fully clothed, on the bed.