She flinched once again as he banged his fists against the walls, her own hands balled up at her sides, wanting to just punch him, or hit him. He didn't care. Even though she felt a knot form in her throat at the fact that he was saying that she was the only one who 'meant anything' to him, she couldn't just...he couldn't just expect her to forgive him.
"I've put up with your job, Darren. I've told myself that they were just clients, that they didn't mean anything. That you were still coming back to me. I've put up with smelling thier perfume on your clothes...I've dealt with the lipstick on your collar, and I've dealt with everything because...because I knew that it was your job. But even then, I fucking hated it...knowing that someone else had you." She paused and swallowed roughly, shifting a little bit against the wall before she looked back up at him. "If I meant anything at all to you...you would care."
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