On our fifth anniversary, Henry Judd—the guy who once swore he'd propose—rented out an entire mall for Cecilia Cheape's birthday.

A diamond the size of a pigeon's egg sparkled on her finger. I'd been dumb enough to think it was meant for me.

"Cece, I'm gonna give you a birthday you'll never forget," he announced, loud enough for the whole world to hear. Then he yanked the tab off a soda can and handed it to me.

"Lulu, those gaudy things don't suit you. You deserve something unique."

He slid the can tab onto my finger—his version of a proposal.

Cecilia got the dream birthday. I got a piece of trash and a slap of reality.

Later, when he found out I was marrying someone else, he got down on one knee with that same ring and begged me to say yes.

After the birthday party, Henry Judd helped Cecilia Cheape out of the mall, her gown trailing behind her.

The night air was sharp. Ever the gentleman, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

As they climbed into the car, Henry finally noticed me—standing there, hollow-eyed, stunned. He rolled down the window.

"Can you hurry up? You're moving like a grandma. No clue why you're mad this time. It was just a birthday party, not a proposal."

I let out a cold laugh, my gaze shifting to Cecilia, who was busy admiring the diamond on her finger.

"Didn't you say you were proposing today? You dragged me here just to watch you cozy up to her?"

Henry leaned against the window, smirking. Unbothered.

"Didn't I already propose? So, you getting in or not? If not, we're leaving."

I looked down. The can tab had sliced into my skin.

"So this is how little I matter to you."

I flicked the tab onto the ground, right under his car.

Cecilia frowned, tilting her head. "Lulu, are you actually mad? So what if Henry got me a fifty-thousand-dollar ring? It's just a birthday gift. Do you have to make it a competition?"

Henry fastened her seatbelt, then shot her a reassuring glance.

"Forget it, Cece. Lulu's always been like this—jealous over nothing. She's never gonna change. Whatever. If she's not getting in, we're leaving. Waste of my time."

Cecilia smirked at me before rolling up the window.

I let out a slow breath, frozen as I watched Henry's car disappear.

The disappointment was so heavy; I couldn't even wrap my head around it.

I'd thought the whole setup was for our engagement. But when I turned, the massive backdrop spelled out Cecilia's name instead.

Turns out, nothing I said ever mattered. But Cecilia? Every little detail about her, he remembered.

I'd arrived dressed to perfection, thinking I was supposed to be the star of the night. Turns out, I wasn't even part of the cast.

The gown I'd picked weeks ago, the ring I thought was mine—both belonged to Cecilia now.

I had actually pictured myself in that dress, standing in front of Henry as he held up a ring. I would've been so happy.

Instead, reality hit like a slap. All I got was a soda can tab.

So this is what five years meant to him—absolutely nothing.

Night had fallen, and snowflakes drifted through the dark sky.

I pulled my coat tighter and called my mom.

"I'll leave the wedding planning to you."

She paused. "Alright. I'll send you Joe's contact soon. No matter what, I'm just glad you've come around."

That was it—just a few reminders before she hung up.

Thanks to Henry, I couldn't care less about the future anymore. I used to fight against meeting the guy my parents picked for me. But now? No matter how bad he was, he had to be better than Henry.

The walk home wasn't far, but I stretched it into two hours.

When I finally got back, Henry was still MIA. The place looked exactly the same—his clothes still scattered on the floor.

Before, I would've picked them up without thinking, tossed them in the wash like it was my job. Now? I just felt like an idiot.

So I walked straight to the bedroom and dumped them all in the trash.

The candlelit dinner I'd carefully prepared? That went in, too.

I'd imagined coming home after the proposal, starting our happily ever after. Turns out, that was just my own stupid fantasy.

Before bed, I mindlessly scrolled through social media.

Cecilia had posted updates, of course:

[Thank you, Henry, for your love. You made this an unforgettable birthday.]

[The dress is beautiful, I love it. I hope next year's birthday will be just as special—someone by my side, a wonderful surprise.]

And then, right below, Henry's comment.

The same man who had always been so private suddenly had no problem making his feelings for her public. The same man who never once acknowledged me, no matter how much I begged.

[Cece, tonight, you're the most beautiful princess.]

Just a few words, but they cut deeper than I wanted to admit.

Everything I had begged for, Cecilia got without even trying.

No matter how hard I racked my brain, I couldn't figure out what made me so much less than her.

I told myself Henry wasn't worth my tears, but five years with him said otherwise. My pillow was drenched—again—like I could wring it out.

***

It was nearly midnight when Henry finally stumbled in, the cold clinging to him. Instinctively, I shifted away.

But his hands were already on me, pulling me back into his arms. His breath was warm against my skin as he whispered, voice low and teasing.

"Still mad about tonight, hmm?"

When I didn't answer, he nipped at my earlobe. "Why so quiet?"

Disgusted, I shoved his hand off and yanked myself free.

Cecilia's perfume clung to him, thick and suffocating. The scent curled in my throat, nausea hitting so hard I nearly gagged.

"Henry, let's break up."

Lying on my back, I stared at the ceiling, my voice steady, my eyes calmer than they'd ever been.

Henry sat up abruptly and turned on the light, glaring at me.

"Are you insane? You're breaking up over this? You're being ridiculous. Fine, I'll just pick another day to propose."

The warmth in his voice was gone, replaced by sharp impatience.

He still refused to see it—how his thing with Cecilia had long since crossed the line. But admitting it? Not a chance.

I was done arguing. He could think whatever he wanted.

"Yeah, I'm being ridiculous," I said flatly. "So go find someone more understanding—like Cecilia."

Henry sighed, grabbed a cigarette from the nightstand, and lit up.

I wanted to stop him. Again. But what was the point? I'd told him a million times—no smoking in the bedroom, laundry goes in the hamper, take out the trash before you leave.

He never listened. Maybe because I never made him.

I was done. If he wasn't gonna change, I'd walk away.

"Lulu, you seriously need to chill. Who else would even put up with you?" He flicked ash onto the floor like he owned the place. "And can you quit acting like Cece's your mortal enemy?

"You're my girlfriend, she's my friend—I need you both in my life. So drop the breakup talk."

He thought this was just another jealous tantrum. He had no clue I meant it.

***

Henry was already gone when I woke up.

I grabbed my phone—one new friend request.

Right. The guy my mom mentioned last night. I'd forgotten to add him, but Joe Arden beat me to it.

[The wedding is set for ten days from now. If that feels too rushed, we can postpone.]

Henry had wrecked my trust in people. I wasn't about to hand over my heart just to have it shattered again.

[That's fine. We'll go with whatever works for you.]

I put my phone away and headed to the office to wrap up my resignation. Since I'd been the one paying rent, I listed the apartment online before heading home.

Then Henry's name flashed on my screen.

"Lulu, come to Aether Lounge. I need to talk to you. It's important. Hurry."

He sounded tense, but in the background, Cecilia and his friends were laughing, clinking glasses.

Thanks to his drinking buddies, Henry had been MIA at work for months. At this rate, he was bound to lose everything.

"Fine. I have something to tell you too."

I grabbed a ride and headed straight there.

The second I stepped into the private room, noise crashed over me. Henry had his arm around Cecilia's waist, only letting go when he saw me.

"Well, well, look who came running the second Henry called. The ultimate simp."

"Did you guys hear? Henry proposed to her with a can tab! Can you believe it?"

Laughter filled the room. My humiliation, their entertainment.

I didn't even glance at them. Just walked straight to Henry. His face was flushed from alcohol, his usual pale complexion tinged pink.

"Lulu," he said, pointing at a glass on the table. "You love me the most, don't you?"

I let out a cold laugh. "Just get to the point."

His soft expression flickered, sharpening into something unreadable. Then he picked up the glass and held it out to me.

"Cece lost a round of truth or dare. You know she's allergic to alcohol, so you drink for her. You've done it plenty of times before—one more won't hurt."

So he did remember.

Back when he was clawing his way up, drowning in business dinners, I had been there. I watched him drink himself sick, vomit blood, destroy himself for success. And when it hurt too much to watch, I started drinking for him. Glass after glass, deal after deal.

His entire career was built on the drinks I took for him.

And now, he wanted me to drink—for Cecilia.