The Final Anniversary Chapter 2

I made it onto the plane just before they closed the gate.

After I found my seat, a wave of dizziness washed over me. I hadn't had time for breakfast. I automatically reached into my coat pocket and, sure enough, found three small pieces of chocolate.

Ever since I fainted from low blood sugar years ago, Alex had made it a habit to slip a few pieces of chocolate into my pocket every morning.

The sweetness melted on my tongue, and the dizziness faded. But it was quickly replaced by a familiar, lingering bitterness.

Seven years together. How did we end up here?

At first, I really believed him when he said Renee was just the daughter of a family friend, someone he was forced to hire as a favor. I told myself that's why he had to be so "professional" with me at the office while giving her special treatment.

My department head gave me hell for months, and Alex did nothing. But when that same manager spoke to Renee in a slightly harsh tone, he was fired the next day. The office gossip was brutal. Behind my back, they didn't call me Alex's secret girlfriend. They called Renee the "boss's girl."

I forced myself to believe his excuses. But the "special treatment" started bleeding into our life at home. He'd cancel our plans over and over again because of a call from her.

The breaking point came one night when I saw a photo in a group chat with some coworkers. Alex, who had told me he was working late, was at a midnight movie screening with Renee. It was the same movie I had begged him to see with me, the one he'd dismissed without a second thought.

"Babe, everyone's saying you have to see Forever with the person you love most! Let's go!" I'd pleaded, playfully tugging on his sleeve.

He hadn't even looked up from his laptop. "Watching a cheesy rom-com like that is a waste of a life."

But in the photo, he looked charming, smiling, not a hint of boredom on his face.

The messages in the chat flew by, a blur in front of my tear-filled eyes.

When he got home, I asked, my voice devoid of emotion, "How was Forever?"

A flicker of surprise, or maybe guilt, crossed his face. Or maybe I imagined it. A second later, his expression was unreadable. "Were you following me?"

My chest felt tight, like a wet, heavy towel was wrapped around my heart, squeezing the air out. "Do I need to?" I shot back, my voice trembling. "Pictures of you two are all over the office group chat!"

My voice rose, shaking with a rage I couldn't contain. "Alex, if you want to break up, just say it! You don't have to lie to me like this!"

His expression didn't change. He was as calm as if we were discussing the weather. "If you don't have the basic decency to trust me, then there's nothing more to say. Chloe, I've had a long day. I don't have the energy to fight with you."

No apology. No explanation.

Compared to my messy, emotional state, he was the picture of composure. He even carefully placed a small paper bag he was holding onto the counter.

The two words printed on the bag—Forever Chocolates—were like shards of ice piercing my heart.

All the emotions I'd been suppressing—the hurt, the jealousy, the humiliation—crashed over me in a tidal wave, and my sanity finally snapped.

I snatched the bag and threw it on the floor. The top wasn't sealed, and its contents scattered across the tile with a series of soft thuds.

I didn't look. I just stared at him, my eyes burning. It was a standoff.

After a long, silent moment, he turned and slammed the door behind him.

I stood there, frozen, like a statue. It wasn't until something small and round rolled to a stop at my feet that I finally looked down.

It was a piece of chocolate. The floor was covered in them. Dozens of handmade, artisan chocolates.