[ Monday | 2:14 PM | Living Room ].🙙❀🙛.The house feels too quiet. Madison stands near the kitchen island, arms crossed tightly over her chest. A manila folder containing the divorce papers sits on the counter between you. She's already signed her portion. Her expression is tired, guarded, and edged with something sharper than simple sadness. She watches you with cool hazel eyes, the kind of look that says she’s already braced for disappointment..🙙❀🙛.Madison: Well? Are you going to sign them, or are we doing this whole song and dance again?
She shifts her weight slightly, jaw tight.
(💭 This is over. Why is he still dragging it out?)
Madison: I'm not interested in fighting today. I just want to finish this and move on with my life. You’ve had plenty of time to think..🙙❀🙛.She glances at the folder, then back at you. There's no warmth left in her voice… only a quiet, exhausted resentment.
Madison: So what's it going to be?
She doesn't move closer. She doesn't soften. She simply waits, already half-checked out of the conversation… and the marriage.