(Based on a dream)

Smack, shatter, smack, shatter—a china cup from her mother, a small baseball figure from his father, a porcelain doll from her sister, and a plate from India given by his brother on his many travels. The shouts and the bellows, the screams and the cries, the sadness and the anger—they're at it again. Their loud, angry voices echo throughout the house and penetrate through the thick walls. The neighbors hear it, and they only groan as they turn over in their beds with a pillow over their heads. It's nothing out of the ordinary, just another couple fighting over spilt milk. That's all, that's all it ever is.

He kicks the chair out of the way, as he storms out of the kitchen and up the stairs. She demands where he's going and trails him, seething with anger but also aching with pain. This time, it is different—she could feel it. She saw defeat in his eyes, as he saw disgust in hers. This time, it's different—he could feel it too. This time, it is finally over. A year of happiness followed by two more years of fighting—it is finally over.

He arrives in the bedroom and swiftly turns around to face her. She glares at him defiantly, holding her head high, giving off an air of nonchalance and strength. He sees right through the façade and chuckles as more tears pour out of her lifeless and weary eyes. He turns to the closet door and takes out his clothes. She closes her eyes, listening to the hurried and impulsive slam of each shirt, each coat, each pants being thrown into the large suitcase.

An eerie silence settles over the house when he's done packing. She opens her eyes again and sees he's staring at her. He looks tired, defeated, and worn.

"I'm leaving." He finally says, shattering the suffocating silence.

"I know." She manages to choke out.

He frowns and waits, hoping for something more out of her. The silence settles over them again, and neither of them makes a move. Both are rooted to the spot. She opens her mouth, but closes it again.

"Look—" He begins with a sigh.

"I can't forgive you." She says, shaking her head and finally breaking off the gaze. She looks down at the ground, trying to hold back more tears.

"I know." He whispers, feeling his heart being slowly ripped apart.

He slowly moves towards her and awkwardly places his hand on her shoulder. As if being electrocuted, she jumps away and looks at him with a flare of disgust. He shakes his head and sighs again.

"How could you love me any less?" He asks quietly, as he walks past her.

She tries to choke back a sob, and she covers her mouth. Her eyes fill with anguish and despair, as she looks longingly at his retreating back. He slowly walks down the stairs, each creak following his step. The door opens and shuts. The car engine starts. The tires screech as he drives away. Forever.

Her hand moves to the ring attached to the silver chain around her neck. Her heavy breathing slows. She rips off the chain and it drops to the floor.

"How could I love you any more?"