[the day after]

"I can't believe this," Jackson muttered.

His hands were trembling as he numbly stared at the letter. He didn't love her, but he didn't hate her. He never saw signs of her depression. She never truly smiled or laughed, but that was who she was.

He enjoyed his time with her so much. She made his days brighter—even if she did hurt him with high-heels.

How did he not see it?