Because I don't have a fic beginning with P. Also, I am trying to hit 100 fics before my FFnet anniversary tomorrow.

Disclaimer: Don't own it blah blah


She's come to the conclusion (although it took some time, and almost a whole bottle of wine) that there's just too much pretending in her life. She pretends to be more confident about certain things than she is; false bravado carries her through and serves its purpose, but sometimes it just wears a little thin. She pretends things he says to her don't hurt when they do, she pretends it takes a while to forgive him when, in truth, she's forgiven him before he's even finished doing whatever it is that requires forgiveness. She doesn't let him see the extent of the hurt she feels at his mistakes and betrayals, and she can't let him see how quick she is to take him back, to let him in again. She wishes it wasn't so easy, really; surely it would hurt less if she could create a bit of distance, care a little less? If he thought he didn't have to work for her forgiveness he might not even try at all, and she doesn't want to imagine that scenario at all.

More than anything, she pretends she's happy with the way things are in her life. She complains if her coffee isn't quite right, pouts when there's no chocolate cake on the dessert menu, glances disapprovingly at her new shoes when they make her feet sore. But the biggest things, the most important things, she just keeps quiet about. Like the ever shifting balance of power in her relationship with Cal. Like the fact that another year has slipped past, and with it her fading hopes of being a mother. And the loneliness she feels – she keeps quiet about that, too. She goes on dates and she smiles almost brightly enough, and she rolls her eyes when Cal finds himself yet another conquest, and then goes home to drink wine and fall asleep on the sofa, wishing things were different.

She pretends she doesn't care about the things she does, pretends she doesn't want the things she does, pretends she's happy with what she has, when she's not.

There's just too much pretence, and she's sick of it.

Tomorrow (or the next day, depending on how hungover she is), she's going to do something about it.