Chapter 3

I turned around slowly, my duffel bag in my hand. Sophia stood in the doorway, a tired but satisfied smile on her face. She didn't even notice the bag.

"You're quiet tonight," she said, kicking off her heels. "Tough day?"

The question was so normal, so oblivious, that a humorless laugh escaped my lips. "You could say that."

My silence seemed to finally get her attention. She frowned, her brow furrowing in annoyance. "What's with the attitude, Ethan? If you have something to say, just say it."

I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice even. The anger was a roaring fire inside me, and I had to fight to keep it from consuming me. "Where were you tonight, Sophia?"

She sighed, a theatrical, impatient sound. "I was working. Leo and I had to finalize the demo for the new VR experience. It was a huge success." She didn't even bother to lie well anymore. The lies had become a habit, an automatic response.

"Working," I repeated, my voice flat. I felt a profound sense of exhaustion. It was like I was watching the end of a movie I'd already seen a dozen times. I knew how it ended.

"Is that what you call it?" I said, a cold, mocking edge to my tone. "I guess 'Happy Birthday' is the new corporate greeting."

Her face went stiff. She knew she was caught. "Don't be ridiculous," she snapped, her voice rising. "Just say what's on your mind."

"Fine," I said, my voice finally breaking with the weight of my heartbreak. "Happy anniversary, Sophia."

The words hung in the air between us. Her face went from angry to pale in an instant. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. She had completely forgotten.

"Oh, Ethan... I'm so sorry," she stammered, taking a step toward me. "It's just... work has been so crazy, and with Leo's birthday..."

"Leo's birthday," I cut her off, the name tasting like poison. "You remembered his birthday. You rented out an entire expo hall for him. But our fifth anniversary, that just slipped your mind?"

The unfairness of it all felt like a physical blow.

She flushed, a mix of guilt and anger. "Yes! I celebrated with him! He's my colleague, and it was a networking opportunity!" she yelled, her composure finally cracking. "Why do you have to be so suspicious all the time? Why can't you just trust me?"

"Trust you?" I laughed, a broken, bitter sound. "You want me to trust you?"

She turned away from me, refusing to engage further. "I'm too tired for this," she muttered, walking toward our bedroom. She threw her purse on the bed, not even looking at me. "We'll talk about it tomorrow."

But there was no tomorrow for us.

As she turned, her phone, which she' d been holding, lit up on the nightstand where she' d tossed it. A notification was displayed on the lock screen. It was from Leo.

"Tonight was amazing. Can't wait for our next 'celebration.' ;) You're the best, Soph."

The winking emoji was the final nail in the coffin. It was a confirmation of everything I had feared. The intimacy, the secrets, the shared world that I was not a part of.

I felt a wave of nausea. I had given five years of my life to this woman. I had supported her dreams, celebrated her successes, and loved her with everything I had. And for what? To be replaced by a manipulative intern with a fake pedigree.

I felt a profound, bone-deep weariness. The fight was gone. There was nothing left to say, nothing left to save. It was over.