The promises he made were as hollow as their wedding vows. He believed it now when he thought them to be separating permanently, when he believed her to be out of reach. It was the thrill of the chase Ben thought himself in love with, not her. Marianne Finch was incorrect about many of her assumptions last night but a man loving a woman who was otherwise unattainable wasn't one of them. Melody could laugh if she wasn't so overwhelmingly sad.

'I want out,' Ben had said. Nothing about those three words resembled anything close to love.

She used the sleeve of her dress to wipe her face, having lost track of her handkerchief somewhere between the sofa and the stairs. The promises and quiet pleading were so unfair of him. Ben knew where her feelings stood all along, Melody was never shy about expressing her affection for him. And to use his declaration as a means to make her stay when she otherwise wouldn't was cruel. But, after all she'd put him through the last year, she owed him this bit of pain. This further shattering of her heart.

"Okay," she nodded quietly, still obviously unsure of the turn of events. "I won't." Not yet, anyway. Tomorrow would prove another story she was sure. Melody then tried to pull herself up on the bannister so that she may at last retreat for the evening, only to find herself too weak to lift more than a few inches from the step. "Can you ... I'd really like to go to bed now. Could you help me?" She asked without meeting his eyes.