“Maybe it’s because I feel like I’m losing you!” I shouted back, feeling completely overwhelmed.

In a fit of rage, he stormed toward the door. “I can’t take this anymore! You need to get a grip! I’m out of here.”

He slammed the door behind him, making the walls shake. I stood there, my heart racing and my breath coming in short gasps. The silence in the house felt deafening.

I sank onto the couch, the reality of what just happened hitting me like a wave. I cried, letting the tears flow freely. Did I go too far? Should I have just kept my mouth shut? But then I thought about how he always dismissed my feelings. No, I wasn’t going to feel guilty for standing up for myself.

As the night wore on, I realized he wasn’t coming back. I wrapped my arms around my knees, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on me. I thought about all the times I’d stayed quiet when I should have spoken up, all the times I’d let his dismissiveness slide.

I cried until I fell asleep, my mind racing with thoughts of regret and anger, but deep down, I knew I wasn’t in the wrong. Maybe it was finally time for me to fight for myself, even if it meant being the “crazy” one.

***

The days started blending together, each one feeling heavier than the last. Caleb hadn’t been coming home much at all. One morning, he didn’t come back, and then the next day passed too, no sign of him. Finally, later that day, I got a text from him. He said he’d be late, claiming it was ‘work-related,’ even dropping his location as proof.

I didn't bother to reply, because honestly, why would I?

A few minutes later, I was scrolling through my feed when I froze. Right there, in my face, was a picture from Hannah, her arm linked with Caleb’s, both of them laughing, looking so carefree and at ease.

She’d captioned it, *“Celebrating my son's birthday with this man! It’s been forever since we hung out like this!”*

Wow.

The location? The same place he’d texted me from.

My chest tightened, and before I even realized what I was doing, I had pulled off my wedding ring and thrown it in the trash bin. I didn’t care anymore. Not about the ring. Not about him. It felt like everything was slipping through my fingers, like a dream I could never wake up from.

I buried myself in work to keep from thinking too much. It was the only thing that kept the anger and hurt from boiling over.

But that damn picture wouldn’t leave my mind.

The balloons, the streamers, the lavish setup—all of it so extravagant. The table was laid with gourmet dishes, an overflowing buffet of food that looked like something out of a five-star restaurant. People were smiling, laughter filling the air, and Caleb… he looked so alive, so happy.

It wasn’t the kind of celebration I had ever known with him.

I couldn’t stop the flashback that hit me like a punch to the gut. It was my birthday, just a few months ago. Caleb had come home late, carrying a small, hastily wrapped gift. When I opened it, it was a chocolate cake. A small one, nothing special. But that was the thing—I *hated* chocolate. Always had. I had told him that countless times, but he never seemed to remember.

Still, I smiled. I thanked him for the thought, even though all I wanted was him. But he didn’t seem to get it. He handed me an envelope—full of cash. A lot of it.

“Here, Sarah. Use it for whatever you want,” he said, his voice flat, distant. His eyes weren’t on me; they were already looking at his phone, his mind somewhere else.

I had to swallow down the sting in my chest. “Thank you,” I said, even though the money didn’t matter. What I wanted was him to stay, to spend time with me, to be present.

But just like always, after the brief exchange, he was gone. He had a “company meeting” he couldn’t miss.

The memory of that night—a lonely birthday, just me and the cake I didn’t even like—was still so fresh in my mind. And now, seeing Caleb in that picture with Hannah, everything seemed clear.

He had the life he wanted. And I wasn’t a part of it anymore.

Then, out of the blue, Caleb showed up at my office one evening just as I was finishing up. His car was parked out front, and he was all smiles, like nothing had happened.

“Hey, thought I’d pick you up tonight,” he said, grinning.

“Why?” I crossed my arms, not bothering to hide my annoyance.

He looked confused. “What do you mean, why? Sarah, it’s my birthday. Did you forget?”

“Oh,” I said flatly, not trying to fake enthusiasm. “I’ve been busy.”

He looked taken aback. “Busy? You’re usually the one planning these things. What happened to you?”

He wasn’t wrong—I used to plan every detail—reservations, decorations, surprises. But those days felt like another lifetime, back when I thought he’d actually cared. I still remembered his reaction the last time I threw a party. He’d told me I was “making a big deal out of nothing” and “it was embarrassing.” Now, he was suddenly surprised I hadn’t done anything?

“Come on, let’s go grab dinner!” he said, gesturing for me to get in the car.

I got in, staring out the window. He kept glancing at me as he drove, waiting for me to show some excitement. Finally, he let out a sigh.

“What’s going on, Sarah? You’re barely saying anything!”

“I’m tired,” I replied shortly, still looking out the window.

“Of what? I went out of my way to pick you up, and you’re acting like it’s some kind of inconvenience, huh!”

“Maybe I am tired, Caleb,” I said, my voice sharpening. “Tired of pretending everything’s fine!”

He looked genuinely confused. “Fine? What are you talking about? I don't get you.”

I just keep myself quiet, not even bothering to look at him. Until we ended up at some fancy restaurant he’d picked out, and as soon as we sat down, he ordered for both of us—seafood, the one thing he knew I didn’t care for. I'm allergic to seafood! I clenched my jaw and forced a polite smile, watching as he dove into his meal without a second thought.

And then, right in the middle of his plate of oysters, his phone rang. He didn’t even hesitate to pick it up. I didn’t need to see the screen to guess who it was.

“Hannah? What happened? You’re not feeling well?” he asked, sounding all concerned. “Wait, you’re sure you’re sick? Alright- alright, I’ll come over!”

He turned to me with an apologetic look. “It’s Hannah. She’s…not feeling well.”

I forced a casual nod. “Go ahead. She’s obviously more important.”

“It’s not like that,” he protested, looking defensive. “She’s just…going through a rough time. You know… raising a kid alone… plus she had no one else to rely on.”

“You always seem to have time for her rough times. Do you even realize what you’re doing, Caleb?”

He looked at me, caught off guard, struggling for words. “I…just need to be there for her. I’ll be back soon. Wait for me?”

I didn’t answer, and he took it as a yes, grabbing his coat and leaving me with a plate of seafood I didn’t even want. I sat there in silence, staring at the flickering candle on the table, mocking the romance that was supposed to be ours. After a while, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I paid the bill and stepped out into the rain, catching a cab home.

When I got back, I went straight to the shower, hoping the warmth would wash away the bitterness. But as soon as I got out, my phone buzzed. I grabbed it, seeing a notification from social media.

It was Hannah’s latest post.

There it was, plain as day—a photo of Caleb sitting beside her on the couch, a look of fake concern plastered on his face as he held her hand. She was wrapped in a blanket, looking perfectly dramatic with her head tilted back, eyes closed, like she was starring in some kind of soap opera.

And the caption?

"The Alpha who’s busy with work, but never too busy for me when I’m sick."

I let out a bitter laugh, so loud it echoed in the empty bathroom. Busy with work, my foot. Was this supposed to be some kind of joke?

Without even thinking, I opened the comments. There was already a flood of “aww” and heart emojis, people fawning over how thoughtful and caring Caleb was. They saw him as the perfect Alpha, the attentive friend, the one who’d “drop anything” to be there.

If only they knew.

I couldn’t resist. I tapped the comment box and typed out my reply:

“Glad to see he’s ‘never too busy’ for someone. Hope you’re enjoying the oysters I’m allergic to, Hannah!”

Before I could second-guess myself, I hit post, letting the sarcasm drip from every word.

Seconds later, my phone buzzed with messages. It was Caleb.