John was never unkind to you. Regardless, you could feel the drift growing between you two. His touches felt empty, insincere, as if he was a marionette mimicking what it thought love was.

His thumb brushed over your knuckles. John tried so hard to love you, to remind himself of the reason why he slept beside you each night.

“Lang may yer lum reek,” he whispered, his lips brushing against the delicate skin of your knuckles as he planted a tender kiss upon them.

You couldn’t do this anymore.