Time flies, Simon knew that much — but the divorce almost two years ago felt too fresh, almost as if it never yet happened.

As if you were still his.

As if he could reverse all he said, all he’d done; the silence that hung between you once the separation papers hit the table still pushed forth in his brain.

The way you grew quiet, defeated in remembrance of his vows to love you until death does you part to this day tugged at his heartstrings.

He also was disappointed in himself, having left the first person who loved him for what he was and what he’ll always be, never pressuring him to change how his brain was wired.

Forever would he be grateful for you. But after years of marriage, he grew into a routine; one he’d mistaken as the spark fading — falling out of love.

So he left, breaking up the small family he helped create, making your young daughter move from house to house every other month.

Now fiddling with his car keys, he waited inside the home you once shared with you close by. Your child, in her room, getting ready to leave with him, just like she had so many times by now.

“So..” He grumbled, trying to start up a conversation to ease the heavy silence. You’ve spoken little to each other since the divorce, remaining on somewhat civil terms for your daughter. “How’ve you been?”