Seth just stares at the floor, apologies written into the crinkles around his eyes. He hates that he just said that. He regretted it the moment the words left his mouth; I can tell. And I'm not helping matters any because I have yet to respond. I'm just gaping at him like an owl on a caffeine high.

I carefully set my paddle on the table, our ping pong game, forgotten. With careful movements, I step around the piece of gaming furniture and approach Seth as if he's some kind of wild animal. I don't wanna spook him into retreating. He's letting down his defenses for once and I'm not about to jeopardize this moment by scaring him back into hiding.

"Seth," I murmur softly, pulling his rueful eyes away from his feet and up towards me.

"I'm sorry," he says, taking a relaxed step in my direction. "I shouldn't have said anything."

"No," I argue. "What you should have done was say something sooner."

I watch him for a moment, taking in his rigid shoulders and firmly set jaw. He seems to be reading my expression with as much vigor as I am his, but then he swings his gaze away and shoves his hands into his pockets. I'm hoping this isn't a sign that he's clamming up again. I need him to speak...

And then he does.

"He's always there," he confesses. "Whenever I come home, or find the nerve to ask you out, he's always there. I can't seem to get rid of the guy. He irks me like none other. That stupid smile of his, and the way he always grooms himself to perfection. I hate that he has so expertly maneuvered his way between us."

"What are you talking about?" I finally ask. Sure, I've noticed he's been intruding on my life more often than usual, but I never thought it was a problem. Truthfully, I'd begun to find him to be a nuisance.

"The guy's in love with you, Merc," Seth says with an exasperated release of tension from his lips. He scrubs his hands through his hair in agitation. "I've watched how he watches you. I watch your phone chirp with texts and calls from him. It's constant. The guy won't leave you alone."

"That doesn't mean he loves me," I say, but my words are weak. Because I can't actually find anything that would make a good argument against Seth. Everything he's said so far has been true.

"Please," Seth begins to say, his words careful, almost pleading. "Please just tell me there's nothing going on between you two."

I visibly recoil at the thought. I'm so shocked that I'm back to caffeinated-owl mode, and all I can do is stare at Seth with large eyes. He can't possibly be serious? All this time that I'd been doubting him, he'd been having the same thoughts about me. It's preposterous. I'm as faithful as a hammer. Always there when you need me. Always ready to fight to demolish the decay and ugliness. Unbreakable. Unstoppable. Unafraid.

And yet, somehow I haven't been doing my job right if Seth has even an inkling of suspicion about my fidelity.

"Listen," I finally say when I'm able to find my voice. "I'm sorry that I've caused any doubts in you. Apparently, neither one of us has been doing things right these days."

I push a strand of hair behind my ear and take a step forward, pulling one of Seth's hands from his pocket and sliding my fingers over his. He glances down at where our fingers touch, his expression curious and wary all at the same time. This admission has really been bothering him for some time apparently.

He doesn't return my gaze for a while, but just continues to watch as I rub small circles across the top of his hand. He isn't pulling away, but he's also not responding. He just lets me do as I wish, his fingers limp and unmoving, and finally I can't take it anymore. I slide my fingers between his and step forward, merely a couple of inches remain between us.

He seems slightly startled by my invasion of his space, but he doesn't step back. He just shoots a leery gaze at me, his eyes careful and his movements guarded. He's shutting down again. I can almost see it happening right before my eyes, and I won't stand for it.

"Seth," I say, my words whispered with a harsh urgency. "Don't push me out anymore." It's not a request. I'm ordering him to be vulnerable, to be open.

He doesn't respond.

"What if we talk?" I offer. "For real this time."

His eyes narrow and I watch as he licks his lips before clearing his throat. "About what?" he inquires, his words sounding more doubtful than hopeful. "Us?"

"Yes." I nod once, before slowly releasing his fingers from mine. "Tonight. After dinner, we're sitting down and we're talking. I want to know every wild and absurd thought you've had over the past few months, and I'll do the same."

"What changed your mind?" he suddenly asks, and I can't help but feel a pinch of dread in my stomach at his lack of enthusiasm. Have I waited too long? Has he already given up on me?

"I just—" I take another step back, resting a hand on the pingpong table and sighing, suddenly tired. "I think we both have things we need to confess. Since we're both being honest for once, I think we need to take advantage of this and figure us out."

"So you finally admit we have problems?" he mutters, a not-so-kind smile etching itself across his mouth.

I wonder where his sarcasm came from. For some reason, he's on edge now and I'm not sure if it's the idea of revealing his ugly secrets, or if he's worried that I've got uglier ones of my own, but something about his tone of voice has me rattled.

"Oh," I say, a humorless laugh dropping like molasses from my lips. "I've known for a while. I've just been hoping that my assumptions weren't true. I've been hiding because I'm scared of what we're gonna find when we start unveiling things."

"Right." He nods once, tapping the toe of his shoe against the leg of the pingpong table and then crossing his arms over his chest. His sharp gaze finds mine once more and he lifts one edge of his mouth into a tight smile. "Okay. Tonight." He clears his throat again, uncomfortable about something, and then lifts a finger to scratch the rim of his ear. "Tonight we talk."

He looks insecure. Every twitch, every pause, every movement... they all feel forced. It's like he's consciously trying to make an effort to look natural, but whatever is going on in his mind is overpowering his mobility. Instead of relaxed and casual, like I'm used to, he looks stiff and robotic. I can almost feel the waves of dread radiating from his skin and it has my heart pumping to a slightly quicker tempo.

What could this mean for us? Are the things he plans to reveal really so bad that he's worried about my reaction? I can't imagine why he'd have any concerns. Really, if his confessions push me away, wouldn't that just make his job of divorcing me that much easier? If he tried to end our marriage while knowing I still clung to hope, then he may consider suffering through it a bit longer. So, all in all, me rejecting him could be just what he wants from me. So why does he seem scared that things will go badly tonight?

I swear I become more confused by this man with every passing day. He's lovable and fun one minute, and scowling and closed-off the next. I can never guess what his mood will be from one moment to the next. I've honestly prayed for God to give me a sneak peek into his mind, but that has yet to happen. So, for now, I'll just have to remain on the outside. Sure, maybe he began to pull away when Steve begin to invade my space, but that doesn't mean he's jumping at the chance to change the damage it caused. Maybe Steve just helped Seth realize what it was that he really wanted. He hates Steve for stepping in, but he's also grateful for a chance to get out. At this point, I really don't know what Seth wants.

Another awkward meal takes place, Seth and I just munching on sandwiches as we sit in near-total silence at the table. I know I'm chewing far too loudly—I have a horrible habit of getting so caught up in my thoughts sometimes that I forget to close my mouth—but Seth doesn't even seem to notice. Clearly, he's caught up in some thoughts of his own.

Our eyes flitter towards each other occasionally, but we make no move to start conversation. I find him watching me at one point, and I slow my chewing for a moment to return his gaze. It's such a strange feeling. This tension. I can't even describe what's happening because it's so bazaar. We're acting like children. It's like we're trying to pretend we're still mad at each other, but inside we're just dying to run back to each other and forget what started the conflict in the first place. Or, at least, I am.

"I'm sorry."

The words are out of my mouth before I can fully process why I've said them, but I don't regret saying them. I watch Seth freeze, his sandwich halfway to his mouth. He watches me with an almost ferocious bewilderment for five whole seconds, his gaze darting back and forth between my eyes before he suddenly drops his sandwich. He most definitely was not expecting those words to come out of my mouth.

And I'm definitely not expecting him to suddenly lurch back in his seat, the legs of his chair tearing against the wood floors as they slide against the surface. He leans forward slightly, his fingers clamping against the edge of the table as he pulls himself into standing. He begins to walk away, and I'm expecting him to vanish on me again, but then he stops and turns around.

"I didn't realize you had anything to apologize for," he says. His voice is even and calm, but there's something dangerous lurking in the crevices of his words.

I just shrug, trying my best to appear nonchalant as I sit in the blistering heat of his harsh gaze.

"Then you'd be wrong," I answer.

I keep hoping that my honesty will spark some kind of motivation in Seth to want to fix us. I know he's been wanting to talk for quite some time, but I always figured it was just his last attempt at doing the right thing before he broke my heart. Now, I'm not so sure because he looks anything but pleased by my apology.

A deep groan suddenly grumbles its way out of his throat, his hands grabbing his shoulders as he squeezes his irritation into the tight muscles at his neck. I watch him tilt his head slightly from one side to the other, allowing the bones to pop and crack as he loosens the tension.

"This is getting ridiculous!" His words are angry, but I don't think they're aimed towards me. They're aimed towards our situation.

Standing, I make my way towards him, my hands grabbing his shoulders and forcing him to hold my gaze.

"Seth—"

"Please, Merc," he nearly begs. "Please can we just talk? I don't even care what we have to say to each other, because this silence is so much more painful than anything we have to say."

"Yeah," I nod, almost desperate to calm the storm that's brewing behind his eyes. "Okay."

He visibly relaxes, rolling his shoulders out and unintentionally shaking my hands off of his arms in the process.

"I'm glad you agreed," he says, a stiff grin on his face, "because I was gonna start talking whether you agreed or not."

I try to laugh. I really do. But I just don't have it in me. This is that moment. He's going to tell me that's he's found fresh love with Tracy. He's going to dig those divorce papers out of the bottom of his bag and kindly beg for me to sign them so that he can be free to love the way he deserves to. This is really happening.

I suddenly feel as though I'm going to be sick. My stomach's clenched tighter than a croc's jaw. It's twisting and turning in preparation for release, and I'm not ready. I'm nodding my head in agreement with Seth, hoping that he won't see the agony on my face. Everything hurts. My internal organs are squeezing and pressing against my ribcage, anxious for escape, my heart is working to ram a hole into my chest, and my eyes are straining to hold back a tidal wave of emotion.

I can't do this.

I can't do this.

I can't do this.

"Just give me a minute," I tell him, my lips quivering as I fight to hold everything inside of me together.

He nods and watches me retreat.

I need water. My throat is screaming and begging for moisture. Seth's sudden need to talk now has my body sucking all liquid out of my pores in preparation of releasing them through my tear ducts. I'm nearly desperate to replenish my body of water.

I duck into the kitchen, keeping my back to Seth since I know he can still see me. My fingers are trembling, my body failing at staying composed. If he's watching me right now then there's no way he doesn't see my fingers shaking as I reach toward a cupboard and strain for a cup. I could have just grabbed the glass from the table, but I needed a moment to breathe. I needed to get away from him.

Unfortunately, even my height is failing me at the moment, because I can't reach the dang glass. My toes are pushing me to my highest potential, but my fingers only skim the edge of a cup, which does nothing but push it further out of my reach.

For some reason, just this small vain attempt at grabbing a cup is all it takes for me to rupture. Tears skim my cheeks and I continue to strain, determined to succeed with this meager task of quenching my thirst—only, this isn't about my thirst. It's about Seth and the fact that I've lost him.

I'm breaking.

I'm broken.

I'm dying.

And then a hand is skimming the flesh at my stomach where my shirt has receded away from my jeans in my attempt to grab a glass. I shudder, the warmth of Seth's flesh against my own creating an emotion so powerful that it blows the others right out of my chest.

That's all it takes. One touch and the dam lets loose. My body crumbles into itself, my hands dropping to shield my eyes as everything I've tried to hide finally lets loose. My body is trembling as waves of defeat, devastation, and failure cascade through each limb and drain out my pores.

"Mercy?" Seth's voice is a whisper of startled concern. In seconds he's pulling me towards him, his arms circling my quivering body in a cocoon of strength and safety.

I can't pull myself together. This is the first time I've truly let everything out. I've allowed small trickles to be liberated from my body, just enough to relieve some pressure, but this is a tsunami. There's no controlling it.

"Please tell me what's going on," he murmurs against my temple, his fingers gliding through my hair. "Please talk to me."

I don't respond because I can't. Words wouldn't be able to make it past my lips without another wave of tears drowning them out. So for now, I just cling to the strength of the man in front of me. It's so strange that the one thing I assumed was going to destroy me is suddenly the only thing holding me up.

"Please don't do this to me... please."

It's at this very moment that I wonder with all seriousness if I'm still here—if I'm still present—because my body suddenly feels detached, like I'm floating around myself. It's all my imagination, but I can almost see myself begging for sympathy, my face twisted in anguish. I force my eyes away from Seth's expression because I fear what I'll see there... disgust, bitterness, pity.

I feel empty and the moment that realization hits me, I know exactly why. It's because my heart has been ripped from my chest and ground into the rubble of my life like a bug against concrete.

In this moment, I'm a shell. A numb, worthless shell...

And yet, Seth has yet to confess a single word.