My girlfriend was always mixing up my name with her ex's.

While she cooked, she'd call out without thinking: "King Mike, grab the bowls and chopsticks, dinner's ready."

The birthday gift she gave me came with a card that read, Happy birthday, my darling Mike.

Even in our most intimate moments, she'd whimper softly against my ear, "Mike, can you go a little easier."

After being called by the wrong name a thousand times over, my initial irritation had worn down into resignation.

All I could do was turn her face toward mine, hold her gaze, and say it again and again: "I'm Edgar James. Not Mike."

In time, before she said my name, Samantha would pause for two seconds, thinking.

Then she'd get those two syllables right: "Edgar."

I thought she'd finally broken the habit.

Until later, when her idealized love, Mike Fox, joined the same company we did.

After that, on the gift card at the company year-end party, she wrote Mike's name instead of mine again.

The red roses delivered to the office listed Mike as the recipient too.

Even during the proposal, kneeling in front of me, the name she called was—

"Mike, will you marry me!"

The I do jammed in my throat, stuck halfway, neither up nor down.

The excitement drained out of me all at once.

And suddenly I thought: what a complete waste of time this was.

……

When Samantha realized her mistake, her face went blank for a beat.

She scrambled to her feet to call out to me, but even then she stalled for two seconds before speaking.

"Edgar, I—"

The irony spread through my chest.

Even at a moment like this, she still had to think before she could say my name.

I knew what she wanted to say.

It was just habit, or maybe she was too nervous.

Three years together, and I was sick of hearing it.

I stepped back, out of reach of her hand.

"There's no need to say it."

"Let's break up."

"No—"

Samantha started to say something more.

But the coworkers nearby had heard the commotion and were gathering around.

When they saw the proposal, the place erupted.

"Oh my God, Director Mason actually proposed herself, and at the company retreat, no less!"

"Mike, so this is what's going on between you and Director James? Why didn't you ever tell us?"

I turned around and only then saw Mike standing a short distance away.

A tree by the path had blocked me completely from view.

From far off, it really did look like Samantha was kneeling in front of him.

Mike's eyes went wide with surprise, and in the next second, delight and disbelief rose in them.

The coworkers crowded around him, cheering and egging him on, pushing him forward toward Samantha.

Someone passing by yanked hard at my arm.

"They're in the middle of a proposal, what are you doing standing in the way like a third wheel?"

I stumbled.

Someone stepped on the cuff of my custom trousers, and the pin on my shirt snagged on something, tearing a hole clean through the fabric.

I shoved my way out of the crowd, a wreck.

When I lifted my head, the two of them were already ringed by circle after circle of people.

Mike, in his white shirt, stood at the center like a groom waiting for happiness to descend on him.

And I was just like everyone else around them, an extra in the crowd looking on at their joy.

Across the crowd, I met Samantha's eyes.

Her expression was complicated.

I saw her mouth open, as if she wanted to explain.

But seeing Mike so happy he'd broken into tears, she swallowed every word.

Smiling, she slid the engagement ring meant for me onto his ring finger.

I pulled my lips into a bitter curve. I didn't make a scene, didn't demand answers.

I just turned around in silence and walked away from the celebration that should have been mine.

The sky had darkened, and the wind off the river cut to the bone.

I walked across the bridge alone.

I couldn't stop the memory that kept surfacing—the rush I'd felt when I accidentally stumbled onto Samantha's proposal plan.

The stylist had been booked a month in advance. The suit and dress shirt were ordered through a personal shopper.

I usually spent a few hundred dollars on clothes at most, but I'd gritted my teeth and dropped three months' salary.

When the day finally came, I was so wound up I didn't sleep a wink.

I leaned back against the headboard, unable to stop picturing the look on Samantha's face when she proposed.

She was always so composed, so self-possessed. I wondered if she'd stumble over her words, or if the tips of her ears would go red.

But whatever happened, I would take the ring, pull her into my arms.

And then I'd say it, loud and clear:

"I do!"

If the sunset over the river hit just right.

If the light poured over us the way it did in the movies, gilding our silhouettes in gold.

And if some passerby happened to capture the moment.

I'd make it the cover of our wedding album, hang it in the most eye-catching spot in the home we'd build together.

The more I imagined it, the harder it got to keep the smile off my face. A laugh slipped out before I could stop it.

"Honk—"

A car horn dragged me back to reality.

Now I stood in a shirt torn ragged, dusty shoe-prints stamped across it.

Walking alone under the night sky.

My phone buzzed.

A message from Samantha.

【Edgar, I'm sorry.】

I stopped walking.

【But let's just go along with it for now. Mike already said yes in front of everyone. Don't make things awkward for him.】

【I'll explain to everyone later that it was a Truth-or-Dare penalty.】

Just a few lines. I stared at them for a long time.

But I wasn't surprised.

From the second Samantha called out the wrong name, I'd known exactly what she would do.

Just like on Valentine's Day, when the dozen red roses she'd had sent to the office landed in Mike's hands by mistake.

When I went to take them back, she pressed my hand down, gently.

"Sorry, Edgar. I wrote the wrong recipient by accident."

"Just let Mike keep them. Taking them back in front of this many people would embarrass him."

A message popped up in the retreat group chat.

【Director Mason's treating everyone to an engagement dinner—meet in the second-floor restaurant of the hotel!】

Not a last-minute decision. Part of the proposal plan.

Since she'd proposed to the wrong man, then everything would just go along with the mistake and go to Mike.

That was always how Samantha did things.

Someone had snapped a photo of the table.

The hotel's top-tier banquet spread. The main dish was king crab.

I'm allergic to shellfish. Samantha could never seem to remember that.

But it happened to be Mike's favorite.

Maybe this was fate steering her back onto the right track.

I closed the message and pulled up the ride-hailing app instead.

Whatever happened, I chose to walk away.

I went back to the apartment alone.

I pushed open the door, and the first thing I saw was the couple's photo on the cabinet by the entryway.

My steps stalled for a beat.

Samantha hated having her picture taken. It had taken me forever to wear her down for this one.

I remembered the day we moved into this place, holding the photo and pacing around, trying it in every spot.

Samantha watched me, indifferent.

"It's just a photo. What does it matter where you put it?"

I turned and shook my head at her, dead serious.

"No. I want it to be the first thing everyone sees the moment they walk in!"

The spot on the entryway cabinet, close to the door, was the place I'd chosen after careful thought.

Open the door, and the hallway light would fall on it first.

A little proclamation of just how happy the person who lived here was.

It was also my only comfort coming home after working late into the night, all so I could put down roots in this city.

But was I really happy?

I picked up the frame, running my fingers over it inch by inch.

Even in a couple's photo, Samantha still wore that cold, composed, doll-pretty face.

The dozens of photos my coworkers had dumped into the group chat flooded back into my head all at once.

In every single one she was leaning into Mike's arms, smiling with a softness I'd never seen on her.

Maybe the only one who'd ever felt happy was me.

I flipped the photos face-down on the cabinet and turned to start packing.

Clothes, shoes…

My hands stilled only when I got to the ties.

The one lying most prominently in the organizer box was the birthday gift Samantha had given me last year.

I thought about it, then dug out every gift we'd exchanged over the years.

Since I'd decided to break up, there was no reason to keep any of it.

The first year, the second year.

Every gift we gave had its match in return.

Only the third year was missing—Samantha's anniversary gift and her Valentine's gift to me.

Because she'd filled in the wrong recipient, they'd all been delivered to Mike instead.

I sent Samantha a message.

【The things I gave you, I've already thrown out. What you gave me is in the bedroom cabinet.】

【Do whatever you want with it.】

By the time I finished packing everything, there was still no reply in the message thread.

I opened the group chat. They were still going strong, only just now wrapping up.

Mike had posted on social media.

【You say he's someone you're settling for, an obligation, that you have no choice. It's okay. I'll wait for you as long as it takes…】

No comments, no likes. This was posted for me alone to see.

I liked it, shut off my phone, grabbed my suitcase, and headed for the door.

Whatever the two of them wanted to become after this had nothing to do with me anymore.

The moment I opened the door, I came face-to-face with Samantha, breathless.

The instant she saw me, she seemed to let out a breath of relief.

The next second, her brow furrowed again, her tone edged with reproach.

"Why come back all of a sudden without a word? I was running around frantic looking for you."

I didn't answer. I only found it laughable.

Frantic, really.

So frantic she'd finished a whole meal, walked Mike through the entire proposal, and only then found the time to come looking for me.

Samantha squeezed her way inside.

Under the indoor lights, she finally saw the suitcase in my hand.

Her expression changed.

"It's this late—where are you going?"

I looked at her, my face blank.

"Moving out. I'll come back later for the rest."

Hearing that, Samantha didn't rush to keep me. Instead, impatience flooded her in an instant.

Just like before, when she'd called me by the wrong name and I'd lost my temper, and she'd promised over and over that she didn't love her ex anymore.

She drew a deep breath, forced her patience, and pulled the proposal ring out of her pocket.

"Enough. I swear I love only you—is that good enough?"

"Today really was an accident. And I only treated my coworkers to dinner because the deposit was already paid and I didn't want it to go to waste."

As if it were nothing more than grabbing some cheap barbecue at a roadside stand with coworkers, she soothed me halfheartedly.

"I explained everything to Mike, too. Look, I even got the proposal ring back."

"Let's just leave it here."

Samantha seized my hand and, without so much as asking, slid the ring onto my ring finger.

But it was far too loose.

The moment I lowered my hand, the ring slid straight off and rolled right to Samantha's feet.

The air went quiet for a beat.

Watching the stunned look on her face, I laughed, dripping with irony.

"Another accident? Filled in the wrong size when you ordered the ring?"

When that ring had been on Mike's finger, it fit like it had been made for him.

For once, Samantha looked a little guilty.

She picked the ring up, cleared her throat a few times, covering the awkwardness on her face.

"It was an accident. I'll have someone resize it later."

"Don't bother."

I cut her off coldly.

"When I said we're breaking up, I meant it. Let's just end it here."