Celine’s slender figure clung to Lucas as they returned from the corner store, each carrying bags of household supplies. With their laughter and ease, they looked every bit like a couple settling into a shared life. The sight was a bitter reminder of how quickly Lucas had shifted his focus—away from me.

Before I could linger on the thought, Aunt Mina came down to greet me. Her expression hardened at the sight of Lucas and Celine. She opened her mouth to speak, but I cut her off.

“Mom sent over some gifts for you,” I said briskly, gesturing to the delivery truck. “Make sure to check everything—it’s all perishable.”

I didn’t spare Lucas a glance, but this time, he took the initiative to speak.

“Anastasia, don’t misunderstand.” His tone was calm, measured—the voice of a man used to talking his way out of trouble. “Celine’s last apartment was in a dangerous area. I found her a safer place. I didn’t know your aunt lived here. By the way, why’d you buy so much stuff?”

Directing the delivery driver, I answered without looking at him. “It’s not mine. My mom sent it. We’re leaving soon, so she wanted to make sure Aunt Mina has plenty.”

Lucas’s shoulders relaxed, relieved that I wasn’t challenging him.

“No problem,” he said lightly. “The North Suburbs aren’t far. Let me know when you’re back, and I’ll help you settle in.”

He still didn’t know I was leaving permanently. And I had no plans to tell him.

The silence that followed was heavy. Aunt Mina glanced at Lucas and Celine, her frown deepening as she watched Lucas carefully adjust the straps of Celine’s bag. Finally, Celine sighed dramatically, breaking the tension.

“I’m exhausted,” she said with a pout.

Lucas immediately turned to the driver. “Hold off on the rest for now. We’ll use the elevator first.”

I stepped aside to let them go, my expression unreadable. Lucas hesitated for a moment before guiding Celine into the elevator. As the doors slid shut, I caught a glimpse of her satisfied smirk.

The scene brought back memories I’d buried. Years ago, when my aunt moved out, Lucas had been just as attentive to me—helping me pack, arranging my belongings, and even carrying me across the threshold of his home with a playful grin. “Welcome home, future lady of the house,” he’d teased back then.

Aunt Mina sighed beside me, pulling me from the memory. “Ana, are you sure you don’t want me to talk to him? You’ve been through so much together. Maybe he’s just confused.”

“No,” I replied firmly. “There’s no confusion here. If he wanted me to understand, he would’ve explained by now.”

Even as I said my goodbyes and left the packages with my aunt, Lucas and Celine hadn’t returned. Out of courtesy, I sent Lucas a quick text asking when he’d be back.

His reply came almost instantly, but instead of a text, it was a voice message. I tapped it open.

“Anastasia, Lucas is fixing some wiring in my apartment,” Celine’s syrupy voice filled the air. “This place is brand new, but there’s so much to do. Don’t wait for him—go home! I’d feel terrible if we kept you waiting.”

Another message followed before I could respond.

“By the way, Ana, I hope you don’t misunderstand. Lucas is just helping me because I’m new to the city. It’s so hard being alone here, you know?”

Her tone was all sugar, but the words dripped with something sharper.

Closing the chat, I hailed a cab. My fingers hovered over my phone, torn between replying and letting it go. I chose the latter.

As the cab rolled through the quiet streets, my phone rang. Lucas’s name flashed on the screen. Against my better judgment, I answered.

“Why were you so cold to Celine?” he began, his voice tense. “She’s my subordinate, Ana. I’m just helping her. Is that a crime now?”

“Since when did you become her savior?” I shot back, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice. “You’ve been pulling stunts like this for weeks. You didn’t even check on me after the hospital, but you’re bending over backward for her.”

“That’s not fair!” he snapped. “At her birthday party, you were so standoffish. Now you’re making things harder. You’re reading too much into this.”

Through the phone, I could hear Celine’s soft sobs. Her manipulative sweetness grated on my nerves.

Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to stay calm. “Fine,” I said finally. “Maybe I am overthinking. Don’t worry—I won’t bother either of you again.”

I hung up before he could respond, staring out at the city lights as they blurred past.

Lucas’ questioning voice lingered in my mind, but I silenced it with a swift, detached response before ending the call. As the car pulled up to my apartment complex, I stepped out, bracing myself for what lay ahead.

Before I reached the elevator, my phone buzzed incessantly. Opening the notifications, I found myself staring at Lucas’ work group chat. The unread message count had soared past 99+, and at the top of the feed was a post from Celine—a photo of Lucas crouched, sleeves rolled up, fixing electrical wiring and plumbing in her apartment.

“Who else has a boss this thoughtful?” she wrote. “I’d pledge my life to this family—uh, company. Can I sign a lifetime contract?”

The comments below were a flood of admiration and envy:

“Never seen the boss like this! Isn’t he the guy who can’t stand a mess? Guess not for her!”

“OMG, so dreamy without his suit! Ladies, hands off—I’m calling dibs on Mr. Haskins!”

“Dream on. This post came from the future Mrs. Haskins. Stick to work, girls!”

I stared at the chat with a strange, detached calm. Once upon a time, I’d been in Celine’s place—the one everyone envied. Back then, Lucas used to post candid shots of me in the office, working late or making coffee, captioning them with playful admiration. His affection had been obvious to everyone, and it had made the dull office routine almost charming. But all that had shifted the moment Celine entered our lives.

She wasn’t just an employee; she was a replacement. One by one, she absorbed every role I’d played in Lucas’ life—at work, at home, and in his heart. Now, even in his group chat, my name had become a taboo.

With a sigh, I deleted the group chat from my phone. If I was moving on, there was no need to carry the burden of their future.

Back in the apartment I’d called home for eight years, I started packing. My fingers grazed a photo album buried beneath a pile of forgotten keepsakes. Sitting on the edge of my bed, I opened it, flipping through page after page of memories Lucas and I had shared.

The album was a symbol of his grand promise. Eight years ago, he’d said he would give me 9,999 surprises—one for every moment until we stood at the altar. He had a custom album made to hold exactly that many photos. Now, there was only one blank page left.

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. All those promises, all that effort to win my trust and loyalty, and it had all ended in ashes before it had truly begun.

I carried the album downstairs to the quiet garden area behind the complex. The air was still as I lit a match, watching the small flame grow before setting it against the edge of the first page.

The fire spread quickly, devouring every memory in its path. Photos curled, blackened, and crumbled into ash. Each burned image felt like a weight lifting from my shoulders—a painful liberation.

“Anastasia!”

I turned at the sound of Lucas’ voice. He stood there, his face ashen, staring at the burning album. Without hesitation, he ran forward, trying to save it.

“Are you out of your mind?” he yelled, shoving me aside to reach for the flames. The heat was unbearable, but he tried anyway, his hands blistering as he stomped on the album, desperate to extinguish the fire.

“You’re burning our memories! What the hell are you doing?!”

I stood there, calm amidst his panic. “They aren’t our memories anymore,” I said quietly.

Lucas froze, his eyes darting between me and the smoldering remains of the album. “You think you can erase everything? Just like that?”

“Erase?” I tilted my head. “No, Lucas. You erased it the moment you let her into your life. This is just me catching up.”

His anger morphed into something darker—a mix of frustration and regret. “I didn’t replace you. Celine... she’s just—”

“Stop.” My voice was firm. “We both know what this is. You made your choice, Lucas. And now I’m making mine.”

The wind carried the last ashes of the album into the night, scattering them like the remnants of a life I no longer recognized. Lucas stood there, fists clenched, as though trying to hold onto something intangible.

But in our world, love wasn’t about promises or gestures. It was a currency of power, trust, and sacrifice.

And Lucas had spent it all.

That night, as I packed the last of my belongings, my phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number.