The pure excitement Fallon felt towards her best friend's upcoming engagement came to a screeching halt after it became a reality. Seeing how joyful Malou was served only as a reminder for how miserable her own marriage had become. They hadn't yet been married a year and already Fallon felt as though they were tethering on the edge of ruin, of officially living separate lives and resigning themselves to a marriage with which neither were content.
It'd taken one look in Sterling's direction to let him know she needed to spar that night. How was she to go home to her husband who never talked to her anymore when Malou was now being handed this beautiful, happy life? How was she supposed to have faith in marriage when most nights she considered sleeping in the guest room just to put further space between her and her husband? Fallon had expressed this much too — well to Sterling anyway. Every dodge, hit and kick were met with rants of her frustration. Marriage wasn't supposed to be this hard.
By the time she'd floo'd home, Fallon was sporting new bruises along her arms, legs and torso (though nowhere near as bad as when she'd come home in June). The house was dark and quiet — just as it always was these days — but she could tell just from the tense air that Jess was home somewhere. Even if the rippling tension hadn't alerted her to his presence, the ice cold dinner abandoned on the counter would have.
Bloody hell. Dinner.
Fallon had forgotten they planned to have dinner.
She wandlessly lit the lamps as she went down the hall and stopped at the closed door of his study. He had to know she was home by now, the creaking floorboards had revealed her more clearly than any shouted greeting would have. Knocking twice, Fallon waited for his greeting before opening the door. "Hey. I'm sorry I missed dinner, Sterling needed my help with something." She greeted him lamely, standing awkwardly stiff in the doorway.
It'd taken one look in Sterling's direction to let him know she needed to spar that night. How was she to go home to her husband who never talked to her anymore when Malou was now being handed this beautiful, happy life? How was she supposed to have faith in marriage when most nights she considered sleeping in the guest room just to put further space between her and her husband? Fallon had expressed this much too — well to Sterling anyway. Every dodge, hit and kick were met with rants of her frustration. Marriage wasn't supposed to be this hard.
By the time she'd floo'd home, Fallon was sporting new bruises along her arms, legs and torso (though nowhere near as bad as when she'd come home in June). The house was dark and quiet — just as it always was these days — but she could tell just from the tense air that Jess was home somewhere. Even if the rippling tension hadn't alerted her to his presence, the ice cold dinner abandoned on the counter would have.
Bloody hell. Dinner.
Fallon had forgotten they planned to have dinner.
She wandlessly lit the lamps as she went down the hall and stopped at the closed door of his study. He had to know she was home by now, the creaking floorboards had revealed her more clearly than any shouted greeting would have. Knocking twice, Fallon waited for his greeting before opening the door. "Hey. I'm sorry I missed dinner, Sterling needed my help with something." She greeted him lamely, standing awkwardly stiff in the doorway.