Never Enough

“I was just trying to be what you wanted,” she whispered, her voice almost gone completely now, from all the yelling. Shiny drops that had stubbornly remained blurring her vision were finally forced down with a quick blink. They forged a glistening trail down her cheeks, curving to her chin where they fell to the ground making tiny puddles.

Once they started, more continued to fall until she was sniffling, and trying to catch her breath. She turned away, angrily wiping at the tears on her face. If she was no longer trying to be what he wanted, could she cry in front of him?

He stood behind her, arms crossed over his chest. He rolled his eyes, impatiently waiting for her sob-fest to be over. She was being ridiculous. There was nothing in the world that needed to be cried over, least of all this, and he told her so.

Unfortunately this made it worse. “I’m leaving,” he finally announced, sick of watching his—now former—fiancée display so much vulnerability. He stopped when he reached the door, refusing to look at her once more. “For the record, you never succeeded. I don’t even know why I stayed.” He spat to his right on the ground, mocking her for not cleaning it up. Then, with a final sinister chuckle, he left forever.

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