My phone buzzed on the coffee table.

I picked it up out of habit, then realized it wasn’t mine.

It was Arianne’s.

A text popped up on the screen:

[Man, those crabs my boss treated me to were unreal. I’m stuffed. To return the favor, I’ll cook you a whole feast next time.]

My eyes drifted toward the trash can, where the single crab she’d brought home for me sat tossed aside like it didn’t matter.

I let out a slow, humorless breath.

...

The next morning, I woke up early, took a shower, and blow-dried my hair. Just as I was about to head out, Arianne finally stirred.

“Where are you going? It’s the weekend,” she mumbled.

“Company team-building,” I said.

“Oh, right.” She pushed her hair off her face. “If Hudson ends up staying over, make sure you buy condoms. I tossed all the expired ones.”

I didn’t bother responding.

I just turned around, hit the elevator button, and walked out.

Arianne had always been anxious about the number of female coworkers at my job. For six years, she had tried to persuade me to quit more times than I could count. To help her feel more secure, I cut off all social activities outside of work.

In six years of employment, I had never attended a team-building event, not one dinner, not a single company outing. Even the annual year-end party, the biggest event of the year, I had always found an excuse to avoid.

Eventually, everyone labeled me as the aloof, antisocial person. This time, since I was already planning to leave, I finally broke the pattern and joined the two-day company retreat.

Once I relaxed and played games, grilled, and chatted with coworkers, I realized they were all truly kind people.

When Wanda heard I was planning a trip to France, she playfully smacked my shoulder.

"You should have done this ages ago. You’re young. Why live like a hermit?”

I took a sip of my drink, emotions twisting in my chest. “Yeah… you’re right. I’m only now realizing how much I might’ve missed out on.”

For a love that led nowhere, I had missed the scenery of an entire world.

During those two days, Arianne’s messages never stopped.

[Are you having fun? Who are you with?”

[Where are you staying? Do you need me to come tonight?”

[What time are you heading back? Should I pick you up?]

[What are you doing? Why aren’t you replying?]

My phone kept lighting up repeatedly. Before, whenever I went out for meetings, I always documented every detail with pictures, terrified of giving her any reason to doubt me.

But whenever I needed the same reassurance, she acted like I was suffocating her.

“I’m a person, not some pet you can whistle for. I need space. I need freedom.”

On the way back from the retreat, we hit a major accident on the highway. By the time I finally got home, it was close to midnight. Dragging my suitcase into the living room, I was surprised to find Arianne still awake.

“So you do remember how to come home. I thought you fell in love with the outside world and couldn’t bear to return.”

I was exhausted, eyelids heavy, with no energy for an argument. “There was an accident. Traffic was backed up for hours.”

Arianne shot to her feet, her voice tightening with anger.

“That’s not what I’m asking, Clyde. Why didn’t you answer any of my messages for two days?”

She threw her hands up, frustration spilling over.

“You just disappear like some moody teenager. If you’re upset, can’t you just say it? Do you really have to give me the silent treatment?”

So she did know silence could be cruel. Yet she used it on me every single time, letting me suffer, lose sleep, and twist myself into knots until she finally offered some fragile reconciliation.

“I was at a company event,” I said quietly. “I wasn’t throwing a tantrum. My schedule was full, and I didn’t have time to reply. And you, of all people, should understand that. You used to be too busy to respond to me all the time.”

I didn't bother saying more.

I walked directly to the bathroom to wash up. When I returned, the living room lights had been dimmed to a warm glow. The TV was on, and a bottle of red wine sat waiting on the coffee table.

“You’ve been talking about wanting to watch this movie forever. I’ll watch it with you tonight.”

A yawn slipped out of me, my eyes already half closed.

“No need. I already watched it by myself on my birthday night.”

I didn't bother to look at her expression as it darkened. Instead, I walked straight into the bedroom and locked the door.

Later that night, still half-asleep, I faintly heard a door slam outside, loud enough to echo through the apartment. I drifted back to sleep without checking.

The next morning, Arianne was gone.

At the office, Wanda spotted me almost immediately and tugged me aside with a secretive look.

“Clyde, didn’t you say you’re going to France?”

“Yeah.”

“What a coincidence. My niece is flying out around the same time. You two should travel together.”

I opened my mouth to refuse, but Wanda brushed off my hesitation before I could even speak.

“She’s a travel blogger. Her itineraries are amazing. If she takes the lead, you’ll save yourself a ton of planning.”

She was already pulling out her phone as she added, “Great, it’s settled. I’ll send her your WhatsApp.”

I hesitated, but ultimately, the idea pulled me in. I had been overwhelmed trying to plan the trip on my own, and after years of not traveling, even the excitement felt unfamiliar.

That afternoon, I took leave to attend the anniversary celebration at my alma mater.

In front of the library, a lively group of students was laughing and taking photos. At the center stood a cheerful-looking boy, his arm loosely around a girl in a white dress.

The two of them looked striking in the sunlight.

“Kiss! Kiss! We need it for the campus couple wall.”

The boy shyly laughed and leaned in, gathering his courage. The sunlight cast itself over them, awakening a distant, old memory of youth.

“Huh? Isn’t that Arianne? Our year’s campus belle. Damn, she is really robbing the cradle now.”

The classmate beside me said it a little too loudly.

Arianne’s head snapped in our direction.

Our eyes met, and panic flickered across her face.

She instinctively pushed Hudson away and started to walk toward me, but he grabbed her arm firmly. He said something I could not hear, and she hesitated, lowering her gaze.

My phone buzzed. It's Arianne's text.

[Don’t get the wrong idea. They were just messing around, and I didn’t want to kill the mood.]

I didn’t even bother giving her the bare minimum “okay.”

Soon after, I followed the group to the café we used to visit, listening to the familiar chatter all around me.

“Clyde, what is your situation now?”

I lifted my coffee and answered calmly, “Single.”

Someone leaned in with interest, clearly ready to stir the pot.

“You should take a page out of Arianne’s book. If a relationship doesn’t work out, go find yourself a younger guy. Look at her and her new boyfriend. They actually look pretty good together.”

I smiled lightly. “Yeah. Talented man, beautiful woman. Very well matched.”

As the words left my mouth, the entire table fell silent. Their gazes shifted past my shoulder, toward something behind me.

Arianne had come in at some point.

I had no idea how long she had been standing there, but her expression was already dark.

“Clyde, come outside with me.”

The absurdity of it hit me all at once.

We had been dating for 6 years, but she never acknowledged me in her social circles. One year, her company’s annual celebration gave the family a chance to attend. I dressed in a suit, eager to surprise her, only to be introduced as 'a college classmate' to her coworkers.

And now, when I was giving her exactly what she always seemed to want, she was angry?

“Arianne, can I help you? We’re having a reunion. Probably not the best time.”

She opened her mouth, ready to argue, but a voice called from behind her.

“Arianne, everyone’s waiting for you.”

Hudson Myers.

Arianne took a deep breath, shot me a glare sharp enough to cut glass, and finally let him pull her away.

Later that evening, once the anniversary event wrapped up, I said goodbye to my classmates at the school gate. I had just reached for my phone to call a cab when a familiar car slowed to a stop beside me.

The window rolled down, revealing Arianne’s tense profile.

“Get in.”

After such a long day, I didn’t have the energy to argue on the sidewalk. I quietly opened the door and got in.

The car settled into a heavy silence.

Back then, I would have forced conversation, desperate to smooth things over, only for her to sigh and snap, “Clyde, can’t you be quiet for one minute?”

Tonight, I pulled out my phone and scrolled through the campus forum, casually looking over the couple of photos of her and Hudson that had been uploaded recently.

With a sudden slam on the brakes, Arianne jerked the car to the side of the road. Before I could react, she leaned all the way over, one hand grabbing firmly around the back of my neck.

In six years together, we had experienced our share of reckless moments. The car had always been one of our favorite places to feel close. But this time, as her face moved closer to mine, the memory of her kissing Hudson in the afternoon sunlight flashed through my mind, sharp enough to make my vision spin.

A wave of nausea surged through me.

I shoved her away with force, flung the car door open, and crouched on the roadside, retching with no dignity at all.

My stomach twisted violently, but nothing came up, only the burn of sour bile rising in my throat.

Arianne stepped out of the car as well. Her expression shifted from pale green to bone white as she stared at me like she could not comprehend what she was seeing.

Under the streetlamp, her face wavered between anger, embarrassment, and a faint, almost hidden flicker of hurt.

But I no longer cared.

Bracing my hands on my knees, I pushed myself upright and wiped my mouth.

“Arianne, did you see that? This is how I feel about you now. We are—"

Before I could finish the sentence, she slammed the car door and sped away without a single word.

That night, Arianne, whose social media had been a barren wasteland for years, suddenly posted an update.

A close-up photo of her and Hudson appeared on her feed.

Caption: [Finally met the right person.]

Almost immediately, our mutual friends filled the comments with likes and congratulations.

[Wow, Arianne is officially taken! Congrats!]

[Such a perfect couple. When’s the wedding?]

[Hudson! So you two are together now!]

My WhatsApp lit up endlessly.

[Clyde, what happened between you and Arianne?]

[I saw her post. Did you two break up?]

[Are you okay?]

I ignored all of them. Instead, I fixed myself a plate of pasta and ate with surprising appetite.

Later that night, the mattress dipped beside me. I jolted awake, heart hammering, as a shadowy figure sat near my hip.

“Don’t be scared. It is me.”

I exhaled sharply, turned over, and showed her my back.

The bedside lamp clicked on, casting a sharp and sudden light. Arianne leaned over me, her eyes red and swollen as she stared down.

“You have nothing you want to ask me? You didn't see my post?”

I had no idea what kind of emotional spiral she was having, but being woken in the middle of the night like this infuriated me.

“I saw it. Congratulations.”

She froze, her breath catching. The anger on her face seemed to fold in on itself, turning into something softer and strangely hurt.

“Before, whenever I came home late, you’d call me nonstop,” she said quietly. “You’d leave the lights on and wait up for me. Now you don’t even look at me.”

She took a small step closer, her voice wavering between defensive and pleading.

“Nothing is going on between Hudson and me. I was just helping him because he’s a junior. If you don’t like it, I’ll transfer him to another department tomorrow.”

I looked at her, and all I felt was emptiness. I had cried, argued, and begged her for a sense of security. Yet, she had always found me annoying.

Now that I no longer needed any of it, she was offering everything as if it were nothing.

But my flight was already booked for two days later.

And as for her, I felt no desire to hold on anymore.

Everything she was suddenly willing to give meant nothing to me now.

...

In the following days, Arianne changed overnight, almost as if she had become a different person entirely. She actually did transfer Hudson to another department.

Her new assistant, Harper, was a woman.

Whenever she couldn't come home at night, she sent photos and her location, just as I used to, though I never replied.

Harper, on the other hand, was talkative and cheerful. When she showed up to pick up one of Arianne’s dresses, she greeted me with a bright smile.

“Sir, tomorrow is your sixth anniversary,” she said with a bright, knowing smile. “The chairman planned a huge surprise for you, so please make sure you keep your schedule open.”

Six years together.

Despite everything, there was a time when we truly created beautiful memories.