Work Text:
It was quiet, save for the clock's soft ticking. Every tic-tak was a needle poking your heart. The table in fron of you was decked with a dinner long gone cold. Tears burned your eyes as your fingers clutched the tablecloth.
To hell with it, you thought. With trembling hands, you began to clear the table. The unused silverware was put back into the drawer and the food you had cooked was put in boxes for safekeeping. Two hours had you stood in the kitchen, slaving away over a dinner you had promised Rafayel.
You didn't even like cooking, but you had wanted to do something for him. Knowing his preference for seafood, you had scrolled hours on the internet for recipies and were happy with the outcome. But Rafayel never came home. No texts were answered. You knew Rafayel. He was prone to being easily distracted by things he liked, but you had had a date. And frankly, it was just another drop in the barrel of neglect. You knew it wasn't intentional, but that didn't make it hurt any less. You didn't react when Rafayel finally stepped into the kitchen, a wide grin on his face. His hands held two full bags, probably new paints, brushes, shells and corals.
"Hi cutie, I'm...home...." His enthusiasm vanished when he saw you stand behind the boxes of food. The bags dropped to the ground and he pales as devastation settled on his features. "Cutie, I - that was today? I'm so sorry, I -"
"Save it.", you tonelessly said and he flinched. "You forgot...again."
"I swear, it isn't intentional -"
"That doesn't matter! You forgot! That matters! Your brushes and paints were more important again! Am I that unimportant to you that you forget so much of our planning?"
"Unimportant?", Rafayel gasped as despair and panic seized his heart and he grabbed your hands. "You are the most important person in my life! You're my bride, don't say you don't matter."
You laughed bitterly and tugged your hands free. "I'm going home. Have fun painting."
"No, cutie, please, let me make it up to you! I swear I'll-"
"Not tonight, Rafayel.", you said as you grabbed your stuff. At the door, you turned towards him with red-rimmed eyes. "You say I'm your bride, but lately, it doesn't feel like I am."
With that, you left him behind. You were oblivious to him collapsing on his knees, hands slapped over his mouth as he felt nauseous with panic and guilt. He had to get a grip, or he would lose you - and he knew he couldn't survive that pain again.