ed for work, her movements efficient and precise. She acted as if nothing had happened. She poured the green sludge into a travel cup, her back to me. Her focus was ent

was just her way of being strong for me, of handling the logistics so I could grieve. But now, looking at her, I saw it was never about me. It was abou

the fridge," I sa

ld be home early." It was a casual promise, one I knew she wouldn't keep if something m

ago. I had tried to talk to her about it, a

omething to a child. "You of all people should understand what it's lik

I had said. "But I

s not a competition. I'm trying to be there for

selfishness. I had backed down, ashamed. Now I saw it for what it was: a manipulation. She used Daniel' s supposed illness as a shield, a

vived because it was at my old place. Everything else I owned had turned to ash. There wasn't much to pack. Each item I placed in the duffel bag felt heavy, not with i

, and I was an out-of-place piece of furniture. I looked at the kitchen, the stove I was afraid to use, the counter where our anniversary dinner had been abandoned. It was a room full of

o be that guy, but I saw Chloe's latest article just

iece of praise, painting Daniel not just as a great chef, but as a resilient hero who had overcome immense personal demons to create culinary art. Chloe's writing was passionate, full of admi

n at his restaurant, dining on his food, writing a review that would relaunch his career. The lie was so blatant, so complete. It wasn't just a white l

ravel cup. She walked in, saw me standing in the hallway with the duffel bag at my

" she asked, her voi

ng slightly with a rage I hadn't felt in mont

in her eyes. "I was

we were supposed to be celebrating our

a last-minute opportunity. His publicist called me. It wa

ut you chose to lie. You went to dinner with him and pretended you were working late on a proposal." The air in the pristine hallway crackled with the ugly t