Soria would have sworn she loved Dean, endlessly, relentlessly, as one should love someone later in life.
But as she witnessed the intertwining of his limbs with another woman, their bodies wrestling savagely amongst the same linens she had shared tender moments with her husband, it dawned on Soria that maybe she swore love for the wrong reasons.
So caught up in his acrobats was Dean that he failed to notice his wife of coveted years standing mouth agape, her body unwilling to react.
And so Soria stood, her mind quickly racing through a sea of emotions and memories that did nothing to dim the technicolor betrayal that grunted before her.
She had seen this scene before, in a man that shared the same face as her first born. Her first love's antics revealed over and over till he had widdled her pride down to the nothing. She knew the steps one took to find solace after the shock.
It was the burns of this inner distress that had gained Dean her trust, his openness so easily exposed drawing her in. She had bared her scars, and he in turn had promised her truth.
A truth he wished to prove with a ring.
A truth she accepted with hesitation.
A truth that scraped at the internal walls she had built so strong.
The fact that he had never promised her 100 percent happiness showed in the countless wars they had waged, their mental armies refusing to keep prisoners.
His frustration translating to her fluster and constant steps towards the exit.
She could feel her patience straining as he barraged her with his truth every night, a jagged dagger that burned even as it cut.
But every exit that appealed was immediately blocked with the fear of the silence at the dinner table. The stiff lack of sound that accompanies a single meal.
And so Soria had stayed, stayed and convinced herself that she loved Dean for all the things he told her honestly, and ignored all things she honestly told herself.
Until that moment.
The moment she discovered that Dean had kept the biggest lie of all from her.
As she stood there she found comfort in the knowledge of the truth. Her eyes glazed over the wicked scene and the moments of verbal whippings over the past year rushed back, releasing her from any anger in that moment.
She thought back to the wavering line she had kept in her heart, and how she wondered if she would learn to live without the fear she thought accompanied love. The rush, she convinced herself only occurred in immature hearts.
But with each thrust Dean made into what Soria could only imagine was the coworker he always found time to compliment, she felt herself imposed bonds break, and her freedom to hope return.
The idea made her so giddy she couldn't help but release a giggle.
"What? Soria?" Dean's head snapped back and his face froze in interrupted pleasure.
"Don't worry, I won't be long." Soria smiled and nodded her head slightly in the direction of the now squirming mistress. She didn't focus on the face because it didn't matter; she was just the nail, not the cause.
Dean jumped up, seemingly lost in a need to provide an excuse as he forgot all ideas of covering himself. "I didn't know you were coming home this early..."
"Or you would have started earlier?" She didn't afford any sarcasm in her response as she busied herself with gathering needed items for the following anticipated days.
"Where are you going?"
"I'm leaving Dean."
"Why?"
Soria stopped her packing and glanced back at Dean, his manhood now shriveled in shock. Her eyebrow slowly trailed up her forehead as she glanced back and forth between the two offending parties. The thought that perhaps Dean did not actually notice himself in the moment occurred to Soria as she glanced at the dark haired female who at least had the decency to look away.
"This is not what it seems Soria."
She couldn't help but shut her eyes at the painful words, the memory forcing the emotional bile she had been holding for so long. She knew she was in her right to create a scene. She could tell by the girl's quick motions to gather her parted clothes that it was almost expected. “It never is Dean.”
“You don’t understand Soria.”
“I have learned that I never do.”
“She doesn’t mean anything…”
“That just makes it worse Dean.”
She heard the female huff but something inside of Soria felt thankful, almost content with the knowledge of Dean's misgivings.
“Stay, I’ll leave Soria.”
“Nope.”
“Why?”
She felt so many words fighting to tumble from her mouth and crush him, but she knew none would bring her joy or solace to the moment. Only silence filled Soria.
Dean had stepped closer to Soria in her moment of pause, but she was done packing and grasped the door knob just as the brunette did.
Soria's gaze traveled over the scared female's face and down the clothes tossed on haphazardly in her attempt to escape the scene.
"You must hate me." The whisper plea was almost lost in Dean's mumblings of innocence behind them.
Soria grasped the knob forcefully and snapped the door between them. "I don't hate you."
The girl's eyes peaked in misguided hope as she made her way behind her, stopping just short of the stairs that Soria was descending quickly. "You don't?"
"Nope." Soria stopped just before the final step and slowly turned her gaze back to the two culprits, their faces both frozen in her revelation. "I don't care enough about you to hate you. He's all yours."
Soria was out the door before they had a chance to react. She imagined they were both still at the top of the stairs, staring at the door she had just exited with as much strength and calm as she could muster. But the idea that perhaps they just continued their frolic left her too sick to drive. She marched past the expensive car she had picked out with Dean so long ago straight to the bus stop.
