But now, I realize just how badly I’ve lost.
After hanging up the phone, I returned to the small apartment Emily and I shared. The room was decorated beautifully–warm and romantic. Heart–shaped candles lined the floor, and in the center was a bouquet of vibrant blue roses.
- it.
Nestled within the roses was an elegant diamond ring.
Beside it, there was the deed to a luxury house–the one I’d planned to surprise Emily with.
I had imagined her reaction so many times, picturing the joy and love in her eyes. But now, none of that mattered. Emily would never even see
I grabbed everything–the ring, the flowers, the deed–and tossed it all into the trash.
Then, I booked a flight for the next evening. I needed one day to wrap up my work and hand everything over.
“Ding.”
My phone buzzed with a notification.
It was a video from Ryan.
In the clip, Ryan was carrying Emily bridal–style, her face flushed as she clung tightly to his neck, burying her face in his chest. They looked every bit the perfect couple.
Around them, coworkers cheered and clapped, shouting for them to kiss.
1:02 PM
<
The video disappeared seconds later, deleted.
Then, a message popped up.
“Oops, sorry, sent that by mistake.”
Of course, I didn’t believe him. Ryan had always been deliberate with his moves. This was just another one of his games.
Over the past few years, he’d pulled stunts like this countless times.
Normally, I’d lose my temper, confront Emily, and end up being scolded by her.
“Can you stop being so sensitive? Maybe focus more on work instead of this nonsense?”
At first, I thought I was overthinking it. But one time, when Emily was sick and half–delirious, she called out Ryan’s name.
That’s when I realized her heart was no longer with me.
This time, I didn’t feel anything. I simply blocked Ryan without hesitation and deleted his contact.
Not long after, my phone rang.
It was Emily.
“Jake, did you block Ryan?” she demanded the moment I picked up, her tone icy and accusatory.
She didn’t care what Ryan had done–only that I had blocked him.
“I did,” I replied flatly.
“What’s wrong with you? He’s your coworker! How is he supposed to do his job now? He thinks he must have done something wrong and has been blaming himself, crying nonstop. Add him back and apologize!”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Do you even know what he sent me?”
There was silence on the other end, probably as she checked with Ryan. A few seconds later, she replied dismissively, “So what if he sent the wrong picture? It’s not a big deal.”
Of course. When it came to Ryan, nothing was ever a big deal.
I let out a cold laugh. “You’re right, it’s no big deal. Just like when he ‘accidentally‘ sent the wrong pricing sheet to a client, and we lost millions
because of it.”
That incident had been catastrophic. Ryan had sent our bottom–line pricing to a partner, leading to multiple contract cancellations and negotiations. A week’s worth of hard work–and over a million dollars–went up in flames.
Emily hadn’t cared then, either.
The line went quiet for a moment. Clearly, she remembered the incident.
Then I heard Ryan’s voice in the background, soft and hoarse. “Emily, Jake’s probably just upset about the shares you gave me today. I should apologize to him.”
Emily’s tone immediately softened. “No need, Ryan. It wasn’t your fault. Let him cool off on his own.”
And with that, she hung up.
It was always like this. Whenever we argued, Emily would use the excuse that I needed to “calm down” to spend more time with Ryan instead.
But this time, I didn’t feel angry.
I calmly drafted my resignation letter and sent it to HR.
1:02 PM d
<
3The moment I hit send on the resignation email, I felt a wave of relief wash over me, as if a heavy weight had been lifted.
Around 2 a.m., I was deep asleep when my phone buzzed with another call from Emily.
“Pick me up. I’m still at the hotel from earlier,” she said.
I could hear the lively background noise on her end–probably another one of her work events.
Normally, I’d have jumped out of bed, thrown on some clothes, and rushed over to get her. But this time, I simply yawned, my voice calm and
lazy.
“Call a rideshare,” I said. “There are plenty around that area.”
Emily paused, her tone shifting to suspicion. “Are you asleep?”
“Yeah,” I replied, nonchalant.
In the past, whenever Emily went out for work or networking, I’d stay up worrying about her safety, unable to sleep until she was home. But tonight, I slept like a baby. Even her call felt like an unwelcome disruption to my rest.
She didn’t argue further. About half an hour later, she came home.
I had just stepped out of the bathroom when we locked eyes in the hallway.
“You’re up,” she said softly. “Make me some noodles. I’m starving.”
Her tone was gentle, almost coaxing. I knew this was her way of extending an olive branch, trying to smooth things over. Whenever we fought, she’d lean into her vulnerability to reopen communication and bridge the gap.
But that only worked because I loved her.
Now that love was gone, ground down to nothing, and all I felt was irritation.
“Cook for yourself,” I said flatly. “Or order something if you don’t know how.”
I turned and headed toward the bedroom, but Emily stepped in front of me, blocking the door.
