If he thinks I’m doing this because I want to, he knows the difference now. I’m doing this because I have to. For the both of us. He doesn’t say one word as he turns on his heel and walks out. He doesn’t slam open the door or bang it closed. Externally, he’s poised, together, calm. Internally, I know him better than that. He’s facing as much turmoil as me; burning, breaking, pleading. When he’s finally gone, I allow myself to speak the words he didn’t need to hear. “I miss you, too.”
