He Isn't Hers, She Isn't His

It's that sigh that tells him she's about to make her exit. Her expression is somewhere between relaxed and troubled, he's come to know it as her "that-was-good-but-what-have-I-done" face.

"I've gotta go." There's finality in her voice that he's not sure he should take too seriously, as he's heard it many times before.

He nods; his expression similar to the indifference that greeted her on his doorstep over an hour ago.

He watches her tug on her clothes and make her escape. Unsure of how to feel, he throws his legs over the side of the bed and decides a long run will help him work off the aggression with which her absence has left him. As he stands from the bed, he catches a glint on his nightstand.

He can't help but chuckle to himself, grabbing up her wedding rings. He inspects the shimmering diamonds for a moment, before placing them back where he found them, knowing she'll be back. And they'll both claim what's rightfully theirs.