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.

I figured we should at least have a clean ending. Something real.

So I opened the couple-tracking app we hadn’t used in years and followed the location pin to the city's biggest hotel.

The entire ballroom was drowned in red and pink roses.

A giant LED screen looped a montage of the past six years of my life with Arianne—photos, clips, moments I had nearly forgotten.

But the person at the center of the room wasn’t me.

Onstage, Arianne was down on one knee, holding a ring box open toward a sharply dressed Hudson.

Of course, she was the one proposing.

It fit her perfectly—loud, dramatic, center stage, needing the spotlight on her terms.

“Will you marry me? No matter sickness or health, poverty or wealth, I will never leave your side.” Her voice rang through the speakers, confident, emotional, rehearsed.

For six years, I’d imagined this moment in my own way.

My version was quieter, private—just two people choosing each other.

This… wasn’t that.

But it was exactly who she was. And maybe it had always been this way.

I just hadn’t wanted to see it, and now, it was happening before my eyes.

The first time she ever proposed, she did so to the man who showed up late and stole her attention.

Hudson Myers.

I placed a hand on my chest, waiting for the ache I thought would crush me.

Nothing came. No sorrow. No ache.

In the sixth year of our relationship, I finally understood with absolute clarity:

I no longer loved her.

As I watched the two of them embrace and kiss, my heart remained perfectly still.

Silently, I exited the venue as the final wave of emotion within me calmed into total serenity. The thought of saying goodbye now seemed pointless.

Arianne didn't come home that night.

...

At dawn, she finally returned to change clothes and pick me up for the event.

When I opened the passenger door, I froze for a moment.

A pair of men’s underwear, clearly worn, lay on the seat.

Arianne snatched it up immediately and tossed it to the ground, her words tumbling out in a rush.

“Hudson got his clothes dirty yesterday, so he used my car to change. Nothing happened.”

At that point, the only thing on my mind was catching my flight.

I answered casually, “Okay, just drop me at the mall. I want to buy a watch to go with my suit.”

She looked like she intended to follow me inside, but her phone rang before she could move. She answered, and Hudson’s voice came through clearly.

“Arianne, there’s a small issue with the venue…”

She paused, then turned back to me with a smile that looked almost rehearsed.

“Clyde, something came up at the company. I need to handle it.”

She softened her tone. “It’s our sixth anniversary today. I planned a surprise for you, so once you get your watch, come to the Caesar Grand Hotel.”

I nodded, turned away, and slipped my hand into my duffel bag, double-checking that my passport and ID were still there.

A moment later, she called after me again.

“Clyde...”

The mall’s broadcast announcement swallowed her voice, and I didn't catch what she said.

I simply lifted a hand in a small wave.

'Arianne, goodbye...'