The return into the apartment had a surprise in store for Giselle. Annie had suggested that Ian and Celestine would meet up. Ian was still there. And while the conversation with her mother had left her pondering about the future and life in general, her thoughts trailed off here and there until she saw her husband sit on the sofa, a glass of lemonade on the table and his phone in his hand. He looked up and stared at her.

Uncertain where this was going, the brunette slipped out of her shoes and waited for a moment to figure out what all of this was about. "Why don't we have a talk?", Ian suggested heavily. She could see that this was not how he wanted it to go, yet he pushed himself to do it anyway. "Alright?", she said and let herself sink into the sofa across the 90 degree angle. "I can't see a future for us anymore, Giselle. I want us to split up", he said coldly. Her eyes darted across his expression, trying to read him. Find the reason for his direct approach. "You mean divorce me". "I guess that is what it means, yes". She took a deep breath to steady herself. Adrenaline rushed through her. Realising her emotions, she found no fury, no sadness, no despair inside of her. Instead the adrenaline seemed to originate in her fear of losing her place to live, her wardrobe, her possessions and achievements. Her mother's image flashed through her mind.

"I want to stay here. But I don't need the car or most of the savings", she offered as a bargain. His eyebrows went up in surprise, "You aren't even going to argue? Instead you're haggling for possessions?". "Well, yes? I tried my best and now I'm moving on, just like you", she shot back, gesturing with her hands. Her husband shrugged and rubbed his fingertips across his face and eyes. It ended with a long sigh. "You won't be able to sustain the apartment with your income. However I wouldn't want to live next to that blonde bitch", he mumbled and watched her shrug. "Let that be my worry. If you leave me the apartment and the smaller part of the savings, the divorce will probably go through seamlessly". "What makes you say that?". "Remember that what we earned during the marriage is split in half?". He grimaced and looked disgruntled, "Glad we don't have kids". Giselle chuckled.

Ian pushed himself up and put his glass into the dishwasher. When he returned, he said, "Let's not make a mess of things by inviting Annie or Cel here. I'll get out of your hair, find a lawyer for the official documents and when I have found a place to live, I'll move out". "Yeah...", Giselle agreed reluctantly and uneasily watched him pack a suitcase. Again. This time she didn't ask where he was going. Somehow it wasn't her business anymore. They had officially separated and it hadn't hit her yet. No tears pushed into her eyes, no overwhelming sadness overcame her. The brunette pursed her lips and swallowed heavily when Ian got dressed. "I'll be seeing you. Take care", she managed quietly and he looked up at her. For a long time they stared at each other. She was sure his thoughts drifted, just like hers. Memories of the good days. The laughs they had shared, the time together, milestones in their lives. His perception of the good moments most likely differed from hers. The photo wall had been mostly her doing, it resembled her significant list of memories.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

"Go", she whispered in a last effort. And he went. Left through the door into the stairwell. Now the tears overcame her. Sobbing turned into wailing and she curled up on the sofa and cried her heart out. Whether Ian had left and walked down the stairs, she didn't know. Her wailing filled the empty, lonely space and drowned everything else.

As soon as the initial sadness subsided, her heart felt like it would tear into a million fragments. The final remaining piece of splitting up, of ending her marriage. Heartbreak. Nothing was more painful than feeling your heart break.

When the moon peered into the apartment through the window, Giselle peered back at it. Her hand held a glass of whisky from Ian's hidden stash. It numbed the pain. The last ritual before it was all over and she could go on with her life. Most of the afternoon she'd spent on the sofa, crying and sobbing. After her top was wet, she'd undressed and snuggled into a blanket in just her panties and bra. When darkness came and the pain didn't lessen, alcohol seemed like a medicine that would at least do something.

Her phone beeped. It was a message from Annie. And not the first one either. Giselle took the phone and emptied the glass in a single gulp. When she tried to get up, she fell off the sofa onto the cold floor, but she barely noticed. Everything was spinning and colourful. An explosion of a fairy tale wonderland made her grin. With her left hand, she searched for the phone again. Once found, on all fours, she made her way to the entrance. Doorknobs were sturdy and quite useful. The drunk brunette pulled her weight up with a groan. To her, the sense of balance and perception of the world around her was slow, but sort of okay. Her other hand grabbed the key and then she walked outside into the stairwell. Her body was leaning against the cold wall, something she didn't even notice. A doorbell faintly rung in the distance and a sleepy figure suddenly appeared in the door in front of her. "Giselle, you're all naked, what are you doing? Why didn't you respond to my texts?", Annie said and tried to figure out what had happened. Giselle did her best to say, "Ian left for good". She had no idea whether her friend understood.

With the combined strength of a sober and a drunk woman, Giselle made it into Annie's bed. As soon as she arrived, the pain surfaced and overtook her yet a second time. Except that it felt bearable when a soft hand stroked through her untamed curls and the familiar smell of her lover surrounded her.