(COMPLETE) Almost

>"Here's your dinner honey; I made it medium rare, just like you asked..."
>The forced smile is clear on Rarity's face.
>You know better than to honestly believe she enjoys making you steak dinners, but her she also knows that it’s one of your favorite meals.
"Just set it down on the table, I'll eat it in a moment."
>She nods, before setting it down, and crawling into the couch beside you.
"So... How was work today?"
>As usual, she tries to start a conversation.
>For any normal couple, this would be entirely routine behavior, but for you, it's just more evidence how badly things have gotten.
"It was fine."
>A long, stale moment of silence lingers as she waits for you to continue.
>You don't.
>"So... Did you make any big deals?"
>/Big deals./
>That's the full extent of her knowledge about what you do for a living.
>It doesn't surprise you.
>Rarity isn't exactly known for her brains.
>You sigh.
>Her renewed interest in your profession is far from genuine.
>"I don't make "deals" Rarity, I manage a hedge fund."
>She giggles awkwardly.
>"Oh... Haha... Well, did things go well today?"
>You take a sip of your wine, and flip the page of the financial report in your lap.
"As good as any other..."
>You aren't in any mood to actually hold a conversation with the mare beside you.
>Lord knows she couldn't wouldn't understand half the words that left your mouth anyways.
>Instead, you decide to at least /act/ interested her by asking some random question.
“How was the bouquet today?"
>She smiles hesitantly.
>"Oh... It went well; we had a few new customers..."
>You can't help but roll your eyes.
>You'd /hope/ she'd have some customers; she does run a business after all.
>Clearly noticing your disinterest, she tries her best to reel you back in.
>"The Canterlot Chronicles stopped by today; they want to interview me about my new spring lineup!"
----------
>Her forced excitement let's you know that even she doesn't think that's a major achievement.
>No one reads the Canterlot Chronicles; it's practically discount wrapping paper.
>You don’t smile, and reply with a clearly unconcerned tone.
"That's exciting."
>…
>Taking another sip of your wine, you speak.
"I'm going out tonight."
>Her ears drop, and she sets her fork back into the salad she was eating.
>Both of you know exactly what “going out” means.
>"Oh..."
>Perhaps out of denial, she replies.
>"Is it a business meeting?"
>Shaking your head, you set the wine glass back into the table next to your meal.
"I'm meeting with a mare."
>You can practically see the defeat overtake her body.
>Her eyes begin to water.
>"I... I see..."
>Anger overtakes you at the sight of her despair.
>/She's/ upset?
>She /literally/ invited a stallion into /your/ house, and fucked him on /your/ bed, but /she's/ upset?
>”What time will you be getting back?”
>Closing the report, you check your watch for the time.
>It's 8:30pm.
"Don't know exactly, but it's time about to pick her up; I should get going."
>She leans forward.
>"But honey, you haven't even touched your dinner yet..."
>You stand.
"I didn't ask you to make dinner tonight Rarity, I'm going out to eat."
>"But sweetie, I made your favorite meal..."
"A meal which I didn't ask for."
>Your cold tone makes it clear this isn't a point of debate.
>She closes her eyes, trying her best to keep herself together.
>You stand up, and straighten your jacket.
"Make sure you have my suit ready for work tomorrow; you know I hate having to do that in the morning."
>She doesn't reply, only giving a slight nod as a tear falls onto the cushion below her.
>As you take a final sip of your still full wine glass, she manages to sputter out a few words.
>”Who… who are you going to see?”
----------
>You pause.
>She’s never asked /who/ before.
>The simple fact that you were opening having an affair was enough for her suffer through.
>But asking for the mare’s name?
>This is… new.
>You think carefully about how to reply.
>Sure, you could tell her who it is.
>It wouldn’t hurt; it’s not like she could stop you from going anyways.
>But if she wants to know, that enough reason not to tell her.
“It doesn’t matter, you wouldn’t know her.”
>That of course, is a lie.
>She knows exactly who the mare is.
>…
>As you make your way out of the room she interrupts.
>”I’ll… I’ll be waiting for you to come back…”
>”Maybe we could… spend some time together?”
>You turn around.
“You mean you want to have sex.”
>She hates when you’re so overt with it.
>It makes her feel cheap, which is exactly what you do it.
>She nods.
>You snort, before turning around.
“I wouldn’t bother, I’m sure I’ll be getting home pretty late as it is; I’ll probably just go straight to bed…”
>She doesn’t answer; her eyes locked, simply staring into her salad.
>Her Tears stain her white fur cheeks.
>It gives you a moment to think, and for a split second, you almost feel guilty.
>…
>Almost.