Then there was the night I had heated his meal several times already when my phone suddenly pinged with a notification.
It was a post from Michelle.
[After such a long separation, we still have so much to talk about. How fortunate I am to have met you in this lifetime.]
The accompanying photo showed an aromatic candle.
In the comments, someone asked who had given it to her.
Michelle replied: [An old friend of mine. We went to a DIY studio today, and he made it for me to help with my insomnia.]
The comment section was filled with praise and envy.
With a sinking heart, I quickly spotted Keith’s account among the likes.
My intuition screamed that he was with Michelle. After all this time together, he had never given me a single gift, yet as soon as she returned he seemed to drop everything for her.
I sat on the sofa, tossing and turning, unable to sleep through the night.
At three in the morning, Keith returned, reeking of alcohol.
“Why aren’t you asleep yet?” he asked, the scent of liquor mingled with lavender wafting off him.
“You were working late again?” I asked quietly.
He glanced at the spread of dishes on the dining table, all of which were his favorites.
“A colleague thanked me for covering his shift and insisted on treating me to dinner,” he said.
The emotions I had bottled up all night pressed down on me, suffocating me.
“Did you forget to mention that today is our anniversary?”
Keith rubbed his forehead, visibly irritated.
“Is it really necessary to make such a big deal about anniversaries? Valentine’s Day, Birthdays… There are so many. Must we celebrate every single one?”
A sense of grievance welled up within me, and I held back tears, afraid to cry.
“Is Michelle back in the country?”
That seemed to set him off. He looked at me coldly.
“Look, Astrid, we’re already in a relationship. What else do you want?”
Yes, what else could I want? I had his body, but I could never possess his heart.
He retreated to his room while I sat alone on the sofa, silently crying myself to sleep.
An hour later, he received a message from Michelle, saying she felt some discomfort in her heart.
Despite his exhaustion, Keith didn’t show any signs of annoyance. He threw on some clothes and headed to the hospital.
I recalled the early days of our relationship when I had prepared breakfast and gently knocked on the door of his room to let him know.
Keith had angrily opened his eyes and hurled an ashtray in my direction.
