A/n: Parallel to Someone else, opposing POV (same as in Feeling guilty). Fourth in the series, please first read Almost endearing, Feeling guilty and Someone else.

Suitcase

I hear you come home. I hear you walk into the kitchen and pick up the letter I left you.

You're too early or I'm too late. Either way, I should've been gone by now. You being here will only make it harder for me to leave.

But I am leaving.
There can be no doubt about that.

I'm standing in the bedroom, listening.
Listening for you to open the envelope.
Listening for the rustling of paper.
But I don't hear a thing.

My suitcase stands in front of the empty wardrobe,
Looking so sure of itself,
Its metal handle cold and untouched.

I pick it up and go to face you.
Because I have to.
Because too big a part of me wants you to try and stop me from leaving.
Because a somewhat smaller part of me wants to be stopped.

I stand in the doorway and watch you watch the unopened envelope.
You haven't read the letter but you realise what it means.

You look old.

You say you love me.
You say please.
I almost forgot you knew those words.

You should've thought of them earlier. It's going to take a bit more than that to keep me here.

When I speak, you finally notice me. Your eyes light up; you think I changed my mind.
I crush your hope by turning my head away.

I am leaving.

No doubts.

But then I have to look at you again. I just can't keep my eyes off of you.
Not.
Even.
Now.

You look bewildered. As if you're seeing ghosts. As if you're unable to comprehend what's going on.

It makes me feel very self-conscious.
I try to block you out.

For good.

Easier said than done.

I bet you could cut the tension in this room with that letter opener lying next to you. Do you remember that opener? You gave it to me for my birthday once.

I left it there on purpose.

You ask me to stay.
You say you need me.
But I can't. The suitcase in my hands reminds me why not.

I grasp the handle a little tighter.
You ask me again.

I'm sorry we had to end up like this.
Open the envelope if you want to reach me, I say.

And then I turn around.

And I leave you.

I lock the door and dispose of the key to our house, and of the ring that binds me to you.

And I've left you. I'm walking away from us.

If you want me back you have to stop me now.
This is your last chance.
I won't turn back unless you come and get me.

But you don't come.
The elevator opens.
And I get in.