When we used to lose power at home, Anthony would comfort me patiently, holding me close until the lights came back on. But now…
Just like how he was now—comforting Sonia
I didn’t make a sound and waited in silence. It felt like hours before the lights finally returned. Shaky and exhausted, I made my way home.
When I got back, I stared blankly at the ceiling lights, still shaken.
It was much later when Anthony returned, carrying a bouquet of roses and a bottle of milk. He handed the milk to me. “Milk can improve the quality of your sleep.”
He had forgotten I was allergic to milk.
I took the bottle and drank it numbly, ignoring the pain in my stomach. Looking at Anthony, I said, “Tomorrow’s our anniversary. Come home for dinner.”
Anthony paused, then nodded slightly before walking away.
I clutched the table for support and made my way to my room.
I wasn’t much of a cook—I grew up with housekeepers—but I was decent at baking desserts, especially cheesecake.
However, for some reason, every attempt that day ended in failure. Finally, the last one turned out perfect.
I glanced at the clock. Anthony would be back soon. This was our last anniversary and my final day before leaving.
However, instead of Anthony showing up, I received a phone call.
“Sonia’s illness relapsed. I’m taking her to see a psychologist,” he said. His excuse was so half-hearted it made me laugh bitterly.
Moments later, I saw an update on Anthony’s social media.
It was a photo of him and Sonia standing in front of a window at a seaside villa. Under the warm glow of lights, they were cutting a cake together, hand in hand.
“I’ll hang up if there’s nothing else,” I said flatly.
“There’s nothing else. Bye,” Anthony replied.
I liked the post and threw my cake into the trash.
