fem reader + oc kids + angst + ex! husband simon

You stood under the soft porch light that bathed you in a warm, soft, golden glow that highlighted the look of disappointment that graced your features. Simon was home, late, again, and your kids were already asleep in bed by the time he showed up to your house.

"Here to see the girls." His voice was sullen, void of any emotion.

It pained you to see the man you loved once upon a time like this. "They're sleeping. I can't do this with you, Simon, not tonight."

Your words were like a knife carving up his heart, shredding the muscle in ribbons that tangled over his ribcage, leaving a bloody mess that he could feel pulsing like a fresh wound, flesh ripped open and bones gleaming under the harsh light of his own actions.

Simon stepped forward, his hands itching to reach out, but he knew you would only slap his hands away. "Can I come see 'em tomorrow? I can take 'em to school." He asked, his throat bobbing.

"No. I can't stand the disappointment on their face because you don't show up, and when you do, you smell like beer. Stop wallowing and better yourself." You slipped back inside without another word, like a ghost, leaving him to stand there on the porch, empty and aching.

So, he did.

Every day Simon texted you about the girls, asking for updates, pictures, anything to show that he was serious, and the questions about your day were dangerous because they reminded you of the family you once had. Simon had become his nickname each time he came back, a ghost of the man you had married and knew.

The girls, Analise, seven, and Simone, five. Both are spitting images of their daddy with highlights of your physical features, but not many.

"This weekend is the Daddy and Daughter dance. Do you think Daddy will be here to pick me up?" Analise asked, her eyes a blend of trepidation and hopefulness that made your stomach heave.

She was young, too young to understand the heartbreak of having a missing father figure, and you tried to shield her from Simon's shadowy grave that seems to keep him rooted six feet under.

Your hand smoothed down her hair as you paused packing the lunch boxes. "How about we call him tonight and ask?" You suggested hoping that he would answer. Analise smiled and nodded, running off to her bedroom to finish getting ready for school.

Simone, who could never see her daddy in a bad light, sat at the table swinging her little legs. "I want to go to the dance!" she told you with a toothy grin as she colored in her favorite coloring book.

"I think he could take both of you; wouldn't that be fun?" You asked, not wanting to see the disappointment in their eyes when Simon didn't show up, and you wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.

But, honestly, you weren't sure if you could, not with his current track record.

After you dropped the girls off at school, you swung by his mechanic shop; the smell of oil and sounds of his employees shouting at each other, some hooting and hollering while the others stayed quiet.

"Mrs. Riley." A younger man named Sam greeted you at the front door that he opened for you. He was dressed in coveralls that he unzipped and tied the sleeves around his waist, and streaks of oil on his face.

"Sam. You know that's not my last name anymore. Where is Simon?" You asked him with a polite smile as you stepped inside the shop.

He kept his smile plastered on his face and gestured to the back office, watching as you walked away, your shoulders squared and head held high. This was for your girls sake, you reminded yourself.

Out of habit, you turned the doorknob and stepped into his office to be greeted with the scene of a woman pressed against him, her lips melded against his and her hands curled in the front of her shirt.

Your whole world tilted for a moment, and you stared, blinking for several seconds. He wasn't your husband anymore, but there was still a betrayal that hit you like an axe chopping wood. It was hot and immediate, the burning behind your eyes as you jerked the door shut.

With your head down now, you hurried through the shop, ignoring the calls of your name from the worried workers. Even when Simon called out for you, it all faded to nothing as you pushed the doors open and hurried for your car in an effort to gather your thoughts alone and get to work to think this whole thing over.