❥𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤||𝑀𝐽 𝐼𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑠•𝑉𝑜𝑙𝑢𝑚𝑒𝑇ℎ𝑟𝑒𝑒/𝒞ℴ𝓂𝓅𝓁ℯ𝓉ℯ𝒹/❥

♡Big Girls Don't Cry♡

If you want, listen to the song for the full effect♡

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"I'm so sick of you!" Michael yelled as he knocked a vase over onto the floor, causing it to shatter into a million little pieces. You jumped a little, managing to keep a firm expression.

If not already obvious, you and your husband of four years - were having a major fight. Now, despite the fact that too many fights are not good for a relationship, you and Michael fought all the time. There was hardly ever a day when peace would introduce itself to the mansion.

You and Michael were both very intelligent people, and quite often - neither of you wanted to compromise. It was a vicious cycle.

"Well, I'm sick of you too!" you yelled back, your eyes burning. "You act like you're God's gift to women, and I am sick of it!"

"I don't act like that!" he ran his fingers through his hair out of frustration. "You're delusional!"

"I'm delusional?!" you snapped back. "Almost every argument we have is one where you think that I flirt with every guy that I meet!" you soffed. "Talk about delusional!"

It was always like this. The two of you just didn't seem compatible. The two of you loved each other very much, and things were perfect when you had first gotten married - but at this point, everything seemed to be in shambles.

"Whatever," he shook his head, setting his hands on his hips. "I'm done," he mumbled before walking out of the mansion. Once he had left, you let out a breath that you didn't know you'd been holding.

Tears streamed down your face, and you were exhausted. You missed the old times, when things were better. Nowadays, every day that passed was worse than the one before. Everything around you was crumbling, and you didn't know how to stop it.

A few times, you had suggested to Michael that the two of you see a marriage counselor - but Michael was against the idea.

You made your way up the staircase, subsequently walking into the bedroom that you and your husband had shared. The two of you had tried everything, but nothing seemed to be working.

Maybe we're just not meant to be.

The past year had been difficult for you, especially since you'd had a miscarriage. Yes, you had been three months pregnant when you lost the baby due to stress.

You felt horrible.

With a sigh, and tears streaming down your face, you opened the closet and pulled out your travel bag - tossing it onto the bed.

I'm done.

~•♡•~

You sat at the edge of the bed, zipping your suitcase closed. It had been about an hour since Michael had walked out, and he wasn't home yet. Your eyes were swollen, and your hands were shaking. You didn't want to leave the man you loved, but you had to.

You needed time to work on yourself, and Michael needed his space too. Whether you would come back or not, was another can of worms.

You stood up, walking over to the bedside table. You opened the drawer and grabbed a small notebook from inside, as well as a pen.

Sniffling, you set the notebook down - and began to scribble.

This has nothing to do with you. I'll always love you, Michael. Goodbye.

You signed it off and tore the page off, laying it on the pillow. You put the notebook and pen back into the drawer before shutting it, straightening up.

You walked over to your suitcase, grabbing it. You lifted it up, and took one last look around the room before walking out.

The tears threatened to fall from your eyes again, but you blinked them back - wanting to be strong.

"It's time to be a big girl now," you whispered to yourself.

And big girls don't cry.

~~~~~♡~~~~~
Thank you for reading!❤
Lemme know your thoughts!
Lots of love!
Isha♡
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