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reallygroovyninja · 3 months

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Empty Nest

The front door creaked gently as Clarke pushed it open, stepping into the familiar quiet of their home. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm, dappled light across the entryway. She let out a long breath, setting down her keys on the small table by the door.

Her fingers sifted through the stack of mail she had picked up — bills, a couple of promotional flyers, and a postcard from their son’s college. She held the postcard a moment longer, tracing her finger over the bright, cheerful image on the front before placing it aside.

"Lexa?" Clarke called out, her voice echoing slightly in the empty space. There was no response, just the soft hum of the house. She frowned slightly, moving further into the living room.

The cushions on the couch were neatly arranged, just as she had left them that morning. Clarke's gaze swept across the room, the familiar decor somehow accentuating the silence. "Lexa, are you home?" she called again, a hint of concern threading through her tone.

With a growing sense of unease, Clarke began to walk through the house. The kitchen was pristine, the countertops clear except for a vase of fresh flowers that Lexa must have put out. Clarke paused, admiring them for a brief moment, before continuing her search.

She moved down the hallway, her footsteps soft on the hardwood floor. The door to their home office was ajar, and Clarke peered inside. The computer was off, the chair pushed in. No Lexa.

Finally, she reached the door to their bedroom. It was closed, which was unusual for this time of day. "Lexa?" Clarke’s voice was softer now, tinged with a mix of worry and confusion. She reached out, her hand hesitating briefly before turning the knob and pushing the door open.

The door swung open quietly, revealing their bedroom bathed in the soft afternoon light. Clarke's eyes immediately found Lexa, sitting on the edge of their bed. Her posture was slumped, a stark contrast to her usual upright, composed demeanor. Her eyes were downcast, fixated on her hands folded in her lap.

Clarke's heart clenched at the sight. The air in the room felt heavy, laden with an unspoken sadness. She stepped inside, closing the door gently behind her. "Lexa?" she asked, her voice a mix of concern and caution.

Lexa didn't look up. The silence stretched between them, filled with a thousand unasked questions. Clarke moved closer, taking tentative steps until she was just a few feet away from the bed. "Hey," she said softly, trying to catch Lexa's eye. "What's wrong?"

There was a palpable tension in Lexa's shoulders, a visible effort in the way she kept her gaze averted. Clarke could almost feel the weight of Lexa's thoughts, the burden of whatever was pressing down on her.

Clarke sat down on the bed, close enough to be there for Lexa, but giving her space. She resisted the urge to reach out, to bridge the gap with a touch. Instead, she waited, her own heart pounding in her chest.

Finally, Lexa lifted her head, her eyes meeting Clarke's. There was a depth of emotion in her gaze, a mixture of weariness and something else Clarke couldn't quite identify. But Lexa remained silent, the words she needed to say trapped behind a barrier Clarke couldn't see.

The room was quiet, save for the distant sounds of life outside their window. Clarke watched Lexa, a growing sense of helplessness settling over her. She wanted to help, to understand, but the distance between them felt like a chasm too wide to cross with just words.

"Lexa, whatever it is, we can... we can talk about it," Clarke said, her voice a gentle plea. But Lexa just continued to sit there, her eyes now fixed somewhere beyond Clarke, lost in thoughts she wasn't ready to share.

After a few moments, heavy with silence, Lexa's voice finally broke through, quiet yet laden with a weight that immediately captured Clarke's full attention.

"I don't know," Lexa began, her voice barely above a whisper, "I don't know if I'm still in love with you." Her words hung in the air, stark and raw. She paused, taking a shaky breath. "I love you, Clarke, I do. But... I'm just not sure it's the same as it used to be."

Clarke felt as if the ground had shifted beneath her. She struggled to process Lexa's words, each one echoing painfully in her mind. Her heart raced, a mix of fear, confusion, and a deep, aching sadness.

"But... how?" Clarke managed to say, her voice trembling. "What changed, Lexa?"

Lexa looked up, her eyes meeting Clarke's. There was a vulnerability there that Clarke had rarely seen. "I don't know when it happened, or how," Lexa said, her voice steadier but still tinged with uncertainty. "It's not something I decided. It's like... slowly realizing that the way I feel about you has shifted. It's more like a deep care, a respect, but the... the passion, the in-love part, it's not like before."

Clarke felt a lump forming in her throat, her mind racing with memories, questions, doubts. She wanted to reach out, to find a way to fix this, to turn back time to when things were simpler, happier.

"But we've been through so much together, Lexa. We've built a life, a family," Clarke said, her voice laced with desperation.

"I know, and that's what makes this so hard," Lexa replied, her expression pained. "I've been trying to understand it myself, to figure out if it's just a phase, or if... if this is really how I feel."

The room was filled with a heavy stillness, the kind that comes after a storm, when the world is still reeling from the impact. Clarke felt numb, unable to fully grasp the reality that the person she loved, the person she had spent two decades with, was questioning their love.

"Is there... is there someone else?" Clarke asked, the question slipping out before she could stop it.

"No, no, it's not about someone else. It's about us, about me," Lexa assured quickly, her eyes earnest. "I'm just trying to be honest with you, and with myself. I don't want to keep pretending that everything is okay when it's not."

Clarke nodded, a silent tear rolling down her cheek. She knew this was just the beginning of a long, difficult conversation, maybe even a series of conversations. But in that moment, all she could feel was the heartbreaking realization that the love of her life was slipping away, and she didn't know how to hold on.

Clarke sat there, motionless, the words echoing in her mind like a relentless tide. She stared at Lexa, searching her face for something, anything, that might suggest this was just a momentary doubt, a fleeting fear. But Lexa's expression, open and pained, told a different story.

"This can't be happening," Clarke murmured, her voice a mix of disbelief and despair. Deep down, she had sensed the growing chasm between them, the subtle changes in Lexa's demeanor, the quiet evenings that had become too common. Yet, acknowledging these silent warnings felt like giving in to a reality she wasn't ready to accept.

"Clarke," Lexa reached out tentatively, her hand hovering in the space between them, unsure. "I'm so sorry. I wish I could make this easier."

But Clarke couldn't focus on Lexa's words of consolation. Her mind was reeling, grappling with the realization that the foundation of their life together was not as solid as she had believed. "How long have you felt this way?" she asked, her voice breaking.

"I don't know," Lexa admitted, her voice heavy with regret. "It's been growing for a while. I tried to push it away, thinking it was just a phase. I didn't want to hurt you, or our family."

Clarke felt a deep, hollow ache in her chest, as if the ground beneath her had given way. She had imagined many challenges they might face, but the thought of losing Lexa's love had never crossed her mind. "So, what does this mean for us?" she asked, the fear of the answer making her voice quiver.

Lexa sighed, a sound filled with sorrow. "I don't know, Clarke. I'm so confused. I don't want to lose you or the life we've built, but I can't keep pretending everything is the same."

Tears welled up in Clarke's eyes, blurring her vision. She had always prided herself on being strong, on being able to face any challenge head-on. But this, the potential unraveling of their two-decade-long love, felt like an insurmountable obstacle.

"I can't believe this is happening," Clarke whispered, her voice barely audible. The life they had carefully crafted together, the dreams they had shared, now felt like distant memories, slipping through her fingers like grains of sand.

As Lexa reached out, finally bridging the gap to gently touch Clarke's hand, Clarke pulled away, not out of anger, but from a need to protect herself from the pain that the touch now represented. She needed time to process, to understand how the love that had been her anchor was now the source of her deepest heartache.

In the silence that followed, filled with unspoken fears and uncertainties, the realization settled in: their journey ahead would be fraught with challenges, and the future they had envisioned together was no longer a certainty.

Clarke felt a suffocating tightness in the room, the walls seeming to close in around her with each passing second. The air was thick with the weight of Lexa's confession, and Clarke found herself struggling to breathe, to think clearly. She needed space, air, anything but the oppressive atmosphere of the room that had once been a sanctuary for them both.

"I need to think," Clarke said abruptly, her voice strained. She stood up, her movements rigid and mechanical. "I need to process this... I can't stay here right now."

#so this was the story I was going to release for the event today #I want to change the title from Empty Nest because that was more a placeholder for me #i got told by someone who read this that a punch in the gut would probably hurt less #anyway this one is painful #because its about what happens when you hit a point in your marriage where you don't know if you want to stay or not #hopefully I will get this one finished in the next couple weeks #clexaweek

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