She swallowed thickly. There was no easy or kind response, nothing that would leave either of them feeling good about this interaction (if that was even at all possible). I miss you, and all its variations were selfish and cruel. And, admittedly, there was a small part of her that feared his reaction to such an admission. Would he listen? Or would he leave her as she left him?

She didn't dare look up at him, lest all the words she longed to say would come tumbling out in a jumbled mess of pleas and sobs. I can live without children — I can't live without you, Rosie thought to suddenly say. Her hands held the glass tighter, her knuckles turning white as she forcibly bit back her pleas. The time for such a realization was during the argument or in the days after, not now. Not after nearly a year of separation and painful cancelations of all their plans.

"I'll be okay, if you need to go," she eventually answered after a significant pause. Her voice was low — near a whisper, almost as if speaking the words any louder might shatter her illusion of being fine. She then continued, her voice only a fraction louder. "I mean - I'm not chasing you away. You're just - you don't have to stay if you don't want to."

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