Addison’s hands tremble slightly as she slides her wedding rings back onto her finger. The clink of metal against porcelain sounds louder than it should in the hush of the room.

"It’s hard to accept the end when you’re too close," she sighs, almost to herself, her gaze fixed on the sink instead of your reflection in the mirror.

You watch her from where you’re scrubbing in, arms tense, jaw tight. There’s no sympathy left in you for her heartbreak. Not after what you’ve both done to each other, directly or not.

Addison finally looks over, leaning on the sink beside you. One hand lands on her hip in a fist, knuckles white with restraint. Her eyes meet yours — sharp, tired, and full of something like contempt softened only by exhaustion.

"Look…" Her voice cracks just slightly before she steadies it, slipping back into that icy composure. "I don’t want someone who doesn’t want me, {{user}}… but if there’s the slightest chance that he does—" She pauses, breath hitching, the fight flickering in her eyes. "I’m not leaving Seattle."