Whatever momentary relief she felt when he admitted he'd thought the same, slowly dissipated as he continued.

Febs furrowed her brows, confused, but not exactly sure why. Straightening up, she looked at him with concern, unable to place the worry she felt. Something felt off. Had he only expressed a similar sentiment to spare her feelings? Was he having second thoughts about her now that they knew there wasn't a baby?

Panic bubbled up, but she knew that never worked in her favor, so she tried to push it down and articulate what was running through her mind. "I don't," She started, paused, tried to collect her thoughts again. "Edric, I'm here because I want to be, nobody is forcing me. It's really hard to force me to do something I don't want to do." She'd decided to stay after their argument because she'd genuinely changed her mind, not because she felt like he forced her. Had she still wanted to leave after learning what she had, she would have.

Gently she reached out to brush her fingers along his cheek and to get him to look at her. "I've said it before and I'll say it again, and again, until you get it through that thick head of yours, baby or no baby, I love you and I want you." She meant it, and would always mean it and she would drill it into his head until he believed her.

"I want to marry you and have children, and I will love them just as much, when the time is right. I want to go to bed next to you and wake up beside you and drive you crazy in every way I know how, every day, for as long as you'll let me." Considering the improper and irregular timeline of their relationship, to anyone else she would have looked crazy. A smitten fool who was in over her head. But it was honestly how she felt and there was no changing it.

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"Are we saying our vows now?" he quipped, the corners of his lips tugging into an upturned smile. It was his way of avoiding this conversation yet again. She didn't seem to understand that his doubts were not directed towards her, but towards commitment as a whole. No matter how much love she had to give, there would always be times when he worried if his devotion to her was enough - and those were worries that she couldn't change.

"I don't doubt you, lover," he said. It was true enough, he thought. "We will be married with children at a seaside cottage - eventually." He took her hand and played with her fingers as a moment of silence hung over them. Then, finally and a bit abashedly: "And when she does come, we'll name her Violet."

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— set by MJ! —

Febs very nearly punched him.

The only thing from stopping her was the fact that he had her good hand in his. He had to be the single most vexing person she'd ever met. As much as she loved him, he never ceased to flabbergast her with that.

She had a very serious comment on the tip of her tongue, one he wasn't going to like, until he got to the part about naming their daughter. Febs sighed slowly, softening up a bit. Any annoyance she'd felt dissipated and she reworked what she wanted to say. She remained quiet for a moment, a small, smitten kind of smile on her lips as she looked down at their joined hands.

"If you don't doubt me, stop questioning me, no matter how indirectly." Febs was an open book, she said what was on her mind and wore her heart on her sleeve. "When you say things about being with you of my own volition, or ask me if I've met someone else, I don't know what else to do. If you're not going to take my word for it, I don't know what more I can do. I can only handle so much of that before I snap." He'd wanted honesty from her and she was going to give it to him.

She fell silent, only chancing a glance at him as she added, "But I really like the name Violet."

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He was unsure whether it was the way she commanded him or the underlying threatening tone, but the words that left her mouth - bar the comment on their hypothetical daughter's name, which he ignored - had him seething in silence. She didn't understand, did she? She never would, because in her mind, this was about her.

"Well then," he said coolly, though the sigh that accompanied his words made him sound less harsh than he'd intended, "I don't think you'll be happy with me, then - whether you love me or not." There were plenty of things he could say - "It wasn't like I ever intended to marry anyways" or maybe even "Snap and then what? Find yourself someone else to crawl into bed with when I'm at work?" - but for some reason he couldn't find the willpower to be so cruel to her, even if it would make her happier in the long-haul.

"I'm always going to be afraid that I'm not enough because I've never been enough. It's not about you, it's not about your fidelity or a question of your love for me - it's a matter of whether I can keep you, February," he explained, his words leaving his mouth in a rushed ramble. "I can stop questioning you if that's what you wish," he said, standing up from the bed's edge, "but I'll never stop thinking it."

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— set by MJ! —

Febs felt the tears welling up as he spoke and she withdrew her hand from his slowly. She could only bend so far before she snapped- and he'd just done it. She closed her eyes, turning away from him, pushing back the wave of hurt. Merlin she'd been a fool, for a lot of reasons, in a lot of ways, but she hadn't thought he would ever make her feel this small.

Sitting quietly for a moment after he finished, she brushed away the few tears that managed to escape. He'd asked her for honesty, she'd given it and he'd given it right back to her. What could she possibly do for him? She'd been ready to ruin her life for him, she'd given him her all- far too much, more than she should have and he admitted he would always question it.  If he couldn't believe in himself, in them, in her, there wasn't anything she could do. She couldn't go forward knowing he didn't have enough faith in them. There was nothing she could do, if he couldn't be content with every ounce of what she'd already given him, she had no more left. Not without losing herself in it.

Sighing softly, Febs pulled her hair over her shoulder and reached up to unclasp his locket. She looked at it sadly as she pooled the chain in her hands. Taking her wand off the bed beside her, she replaced it with the locket before facing him. "I'm sorry it wasn't enough." Her voice broke as she said it. Febs leaned in to brush a kiss against his cheek. "Bye, Love." It was a soft whisper, all she could manage before she stepped back and disapparated.

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He expected her to punch him again - and now, it would have been a pain far more welcome than the kind she presented him with. He'd noted only her silence as he faced away from her, but that silence was disrupted by the clattering of something - metal - against his bed-stand. He turned to face her quickly, his expression shifting almost immediately from one of anger to one of pure and utter heartbreak. Her locket - the one he'd given her as a token of his love and devotion - now took the place of her wand, and in that moment, he knew she was leaving.

Permanently.

His chest tightened and he struggled to find any words - and in that moment, he knew it would be his biggest regret. He couldn't even move his hands to grab her arm, her waist, her anything; rather, he simply stood there, confused and filled with regret, as she kissed his cheek and disappeared.

In the moments after she was gone, there was no movement - no words - no tears - nothing at all. Their forever had come to an end with a single argument, a single vent of frustration, and it played into his worst fears: there had never been, and never would be, any way to keep her happy. No seaside cottage, no garden, and even no library - as impossible as it sounded - would ever make up for his deficiencies as a husband or as a man.

There had been times in the past when he wondered how he would cope once she left him. Every scenario he'd imagined had included a sea of tears he'd been holding back for his entire adult life, but in this moment, none was shed. His chest shook as he walked towards the bedside table, but other than that, there was no outward display of his sorrow. He picked up the locket and cradled it in his hand to examine it; despite being polished and new when purchased, it looked as if it had already endured a year's worth of wear.

In the days after he'd returned from the expedition, he'd seen her touching it nervously - and in that moment, he wondered how much anxiety he'd put her through while he was gone. Would she feel better now? Would all of her anxiety wash away now that she'd washed her hands of him? Or would she continue to feel the sting until she found someone else - someone who could be the man and husband she deserved?

He wasn't sure whether he hoped so or not.

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— set by MJ! —