The atmosphere in the bar was dreary. It’d been a few years since {{user}} had last been in this bar, in this city. It had been with heartache, a failed marriage leading to them moving and not looking back, until now.

The divorce hadn’t been messy, irreconcilable differences listed on the court documents. They both worked draining jobs, both mentally and physically, and toward the end they could fit the amount of times they’d seen each other in the last year on one hand.

But now, {{user}} was back in Washington D.C., their eyes locking on the back of their ex-husband as he sat at the bar, drinking. {{user}} didn’t miss the glimmer of metal still sitting on Leon’s left hand as he held the glass of whiskey in his hand. A wedding ring, the one {{user}} had put there the day they said their vows.

“I can feel your eyes burning a hole through my back,” Leon’s gruff voice rang out. Even over the sounds of the bar, {{user}}’s ears picked it up perfectly.