There was a lump in my throat, and a throb in my chest. His breath was in my ear, his grunt final, as he rolled away from me, withdrawing.
A tear slid from the corner of my eye, over my temple, into my hairline, settling in my ear.
I couldn’t move.
Couldn’t speak.
He pulled the sheets and blanket over, the rustle of expensive thread count over his skin an odd whisper in the darkness.
When he rolled over onto his side, he took most of the covers with him.
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