It was his birthday, a milestone year, and the restaurant buzzed with laughter, clinking glasses, and the low hum of conversation. Our closest friends, family – everyone who mattered was there. He sat across from me, a handsome smile on his face, his arm occasionally brushing mine under the table. My life, my love, my everything. We had built something beautiful, or so I thought. A home, a future, a quiet understanding that didn’t need words. I looked at him, feeling that familiar warmth spread through me, that deep, settled contentment that comes from knowing you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.
The waiter brought out the cake, candles twinkling, and we all sang. He blew them out in one go, then leaned over and kissed my forehead, a soft, private gesture amidst the applause. He squeezed my hand. Everything felt perfect.Then, someone at the table made a joke about him getting older, about needing to slow down. He laughed, a little too loud, and then his eyes found mine. The smile was gone. Replaced by something hard, something I’d never seen before. A flash of resentment, cold and sharp.
Close-up shot of dollar bills | Source: Pexels
Continue reading…
