"Then don't! I never fucking asked you to censor yourself. Upset me! Let's argue, at least then we would have a better understanding of one another." Fallon would have rather had a thousand arguments than the months of eggshells they'd just endured. Anything had to be better than this.

Separating would even be better than this, she realized with an abrupt sigh.

She paused then, the weight of his words slowly sinking in. Yes, Fallon hadn't addressed every point he made, but neither did he. Neither of them were putting in the work anymore, neither of them appeared to even want to. Swiping at her eyes, Fallon looked down the hall towards where the floo was waiting. She should leave, they should look into alternate means of living.

"I hear you plenty, Jesse." Fallon sighed. "You wanted someone different — someone more willing to conform to the image of marriage you had dreamt of your whole life. You want children and a wife to greet you at the door every day. A dog, too, probably." He wanted this perfect, idyllic life. Something Fallon knew she'd never be able to fully provide. "A wife who goes on suicide missions for work and forgets about dinner plans was never in your dreams. So please, for once without weighing your words, answer me this: why did we even get married?"

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