"I can't do this anymore," he tells her. She sits on the sofa, and she doesn't cry, just holds herself together with her arms wrapped around her torso.
"Okay," she whispers.
It would have been better if he'd just left, then, if he hadn't been kind about it. It would have been easier to hate him.
He comes to her, and sits next to her on the sofa and wraps his arms around her, buries his face into the side of her neck. "I'm sorry," he says. She cries and cries then, and he does, too, because it was supposed to be a happily ever after.
Forever and ever.
But he's not the man she fell in love with, and she's changed, too, just enough that they're strangers.
The best of friends into complete strangers.
And they cry.