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He would tell her so many lies, but she would brush them off and act like he never said anything. She would always believe his lies, even though deep down she knew he was lying. His lies started out small, they were little white lies, he would lie about the laundry, doing the dishes, or even about cleaning. But as time went on, the lies got bigger. He would say that he was working late, or going to a friend's house. And she believed him, but deep in her heart she knew he was lying.
2 a.m. on a cold February night, she sits on the sofa in the living room with salty tears running down her cheeks, waiting for him to come through the door. She hears the door open slowly, her breath catches in her throat, she frantically wipes her tears from her face. As he quietly walks into the apartment and sees her standing there, he does nothing. He barely feels any guilt for what he's done to her, he knows that he's hurt her, broke so many promises, and lied so many times. As she looks into his eyes, she knows this is it, she has to hear it before she leaves for good.
