like real people do

viii

He saw it all.

He saw how he looked at her during that first game, saw how her eyes filled with wonder when he spoke to their kid.

He saw it all.

He saw how she reached out to hug him, her arms wrapping gingerly around his figure, her face burrowing into the small crevice where his shoulders and neck met... they fit so perfectly, he thought.

They, too, fit perfectly once upon a time.

He saw how her lips curved into a smile whenever she was with him. How she bit her lip to keep an even wider smile from surfacing on her face—something nobody else but him noticed. She always tried to act blasé in front of others, but he knew (more than anyone) that it was all an exterior, and she was as happy as she could be. With him—in his company, in his embrace.

Back then, he thought it was nothing to worry about. Twenty years weighed heavier than some man who could make her smile, right? Granted, he'd done that, too. Way more times than he has... if they were counting.

But tonight, it was a whole other ball game.

He didn't think anything could hurt him after both the physical and mental load he's carried in the two years they've been estranged, but seeing the love of your life lock lips with another man was a pain he never thought he'd have to deal with.

He was too late.

Not that him arriving earlier would have had much of a difference but had he taken action sooner (two months ago, perhaps), the situation he was in could have been avoided altogether.

Coming straight from the airport, he drove to Plató to try and catch her at the restaurant. He knew of the girls' tradition and didn't think twice about speeding his way through the dimly lit streets of New Jersey if only to get to her.

The visit wasn't spontaneous; he had thought about it weeks prior and booked his flight so he could be there on her birthday. Though, he hadn't anticipated that his flight would be delayed by six hours. Despite that, he had an hour to spare. It was still her birthday; he could still make it.

And, he did.

When he saw Maddie and Adriana pulling up, he waited for them to get out of the car, not wanting to fully barge in on a tradition that the girls practiced religiously over the years. He fidgeted with his fingers as he stood on the sidewalk. He's gone up against vicious attorneys, stood before unforgiving judges, and yet two forty-somethings who could barely kill a fly made him feel more nervous than all his years in court.

He explained why he was there like a convict being asked to get up on the stand. And surprisingly, the two looked at each other and nodded. It was as much approval as he was going to get.

However, when he entered the restaurant he was all too familiar with, the color on his face drained at the sight before him.

He saw the woman he loved more than any other with her legs wrapped around another man, her hands pulling him closer, and her lips passionately colliding with his.

When she noticed him standing in the doorway, her wide eyes locked with his. It was a split second before she turned away.

He wished that she held his gaze longer... hoped that she saw how his broken heart still beats for her, only for her.

How did they get here?

He couldn't get mad at her for living her life after he'd left her. It was him who caused their downfall, and he had no right to dictate to her what she could and couldn't do.