Apollo comes home, gets into his civvies. As he's changing, he tells Dee he's heading to the bar. Dualla's tired of being caged: "If you're gonna see Kara, just admit it." Apollo protests, and she sniffs, angry now. Righteous. "Yeah, you both told me: Lee won't cheat, he's too noble. Only problem is, it's all a crock, isn't it?" A technicality. The end of a line, with nothing to stand on. "You know what the only problem is? The only problem is that you don't trust me. That's it. And this is just your own frackin' insecurities talking. Same as always. I mean, right from the get-go, I...the very first morning that I proposed..." Seven-letter word for pussy; what a house does as it ages; what a plaintiff does when they're tired of fighting. "You know what? Forget it. This is fracking pointless." He heads for the door but he doesn't mean it; "No, you're right," she says. He turns, surprised. "I did see this coming. And I was naive enough to marry you anyway. And you want to know why, Lee?" She inhales, tears up, guilty and ashamed and angry. "Because I loved you. I loved you so fracking much. I thought I was lucky! That's right, lucky." He looks away and nearly starts crying; he knows what's hanging from that word. "That I could have you. For just as long as you or Kara would let me." The shame in that. The sickening amount of settling she did, and how much it cost. He can't handle it, comes to her, sad, takes her arm, murmuring: "Come on." The kind of love that wouldn't watch her say this out loud. She whimpers, and pulls away, and looks him in the eye. She's sad, and strong, and soft, and hard. "It's not a marriage, Lee. This is a lie. You want to be with Kara? Go ahead. I won't stand in your way." He shakes his head. "It's over." She stalks out, he doesn't follow. He built this one himself; he keeps building.