racticed efficiency, a series of motions designed to keep my thoughts at bay. I showered, dressed in a sharp, tailored suit, and went downstairs

plifying my solitude. My phone buzzed on the table. A mess

you. Hope yo

ore this transactional existence. A life where I had been happy. I quickly typed back a p

prison sentence. Still, a part of me, the foolish, hopeful part, wanted t

I even went to the trouble of finding a rare first-edition book on architectural theory that I knew he' d appreciate, a nod to the one thing we both seemed to

xt: 'Come home for di

a single, nonc

des of orange and purple. The candles flickered, their light dancing

ry to call, but Mr. Hayes

ped. "What?

on the highway. But the traffic is a nightmare. He sa

pite the tremor in my hand. I hung up, a wave of relief washing over

my phone. A celebrity gossip site. The headline read: 'Tech Mogul Ethan Hayes

e. He was leaning in, smiling at her. She was laughing, her hand resting on his arm. The backg

it coalesced into a single, blinding surge of rage. I picked up the expensive bottle of scotch and hurled it a

es off the table. They crashed onto the balcony floor, a symphony of d

y head was spinning. I stumbled, my hand slipping on a puddle of spill

cleared, I was lying on the cold stone, surrounded by the wreckage of my efforts. M

closing in on me. I needed to get out. I grabbed my keys, my vis

the picture showed. I walked in, and the entire place went silent. Ethan' s smil

raping against the floor.

I said, my voice raw.

his hand outstretche

ere fire. The rejection, the physical rec

with a pain so deep it shocked even me. "Why could

as a mixture of guilt and confusion. But before he could speak

murmured, her eyes flicking toward me with a lo

the screen, and his expression changed. He answe

w a mask of cold duty. "Sarah' s mother had

alked away with Sarah, leaving me standing alone in the middle of the restaurant, the silent judgment of a