Silence [COMPLETE]

and i want to run.

His back was still to her, but she was too busy frozen in her place to do anything about it.

'This is your house.' What did he mean?

Where they moving? Was this her house before she got married to him? Was he kicking her out?

The last one sent a jolt of panic through her system but she pushed it far to the back and away form reach, ignoring the overwhelming need to wrap her arms around him because by now, he had walked and sat down on one of the sofas, his head hunched over as his elbows rested on his knees.

She followed his suit and sat down on the leather sofa across from him, the wooden coffee table acting as a barrier between them.

He didn't look at her as he spoke, he didn't have the courage to do so. He knew that if he looked at her then he wouldn't say anything, that he would make up some excuse and take her back home even if she was unhappy because it meant that she would forever be with him.

But he couldn't be so selfish.

Not anymore. Not with her.

"I know you're not happy with me. I know you're miserable, and I can't stand to see you this way anymore." He began, his voice firm and strong this time as he stared at the wall in front of him, his gaze directed just above her head. "I want you to be happy. I want you to get the life that you deserve and I know that, that life isn't with me. I'll leave-" His voice trailed off and he sniffed quietly. "I'll leave and won't ever come back, I won't ever come looking for you."

She didn't stop him. She just stared at him, both in awe and in shock.

When he had dragged her out of their -his- house this morning, not once did she think that this is where their day would lead; to her freedom.

She would have smiled and jumped up to perform a happy dance if he wasn't so heartbroken with a forlorn expression on his face. She couldn't do that to him, especially not after he was letting her go.

"So how is this going to work?" She asked, her voice quiet yet audible.

She was happy, excited...but she didn't want to upset him further.

It was evident just from the tense manner in which he was sat that this was very difficult for him; and she wasn't prepared to make things even harder.

Because a part of her -a small part of her- didn't want to hurt him. But it was too late for this now.

"I'm going to leave and send all of your clothes here. I'll send all your documents and the ones to this house too. Don't worry about the mortgage. They should be here by the end of the week but I brought enough to see you through this week and at least half of next if you feel like you don't want to do any laundry." He gestured to the big rucksack that he had dumped by the door the moment that he had walked in.

But her eyes remained glued on him.

She watched as he gulped and ground his teeth, as he fisted his hands and closed his eyes. As he stood up and rubbed his palms over his face. She watched him as he rubbed away the tears that threatened to fall, despite him having turned his face away from hers in hope that she wouldn't see. But she did.

She watched as he finally turned his eyes on her, as he remembered the feel of her hair against his face in the morning, the way his skin would tingle whenever she kissed him. He memories the way she looked at him now, speechless but with a slight twinkle in her eye. Hope. That's what it was.

She watched as a small part of him died.

But it was too late as she watched him turn away and walk out of the door, the small click of the door signalling his departure; both from this house and from her life.

-

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Layla Knight