Sure enough, the moment one let a bad thought creep in, it had a way of coming true.

Two and a half minutes later, a photo popped up in my work group chat—Jack, half-naked, helping someone put up curtains.

It was the law firm’s group chat. By the time I clicked in, unread messages had already piled past 99.

At the top was a photo Emily had posted. She was smiling gracefully, and in the background, Jack was reaching up to hang her curtains. He had taken off his suit jacket, and his shirt was tossed to the side. His figure was lean and defined, looking effortlessly sexy.

The caption was playful and a little over the top. "Who would have thought my royal-born best friend would personally come over to help me hang curtains? This kind of service is priceless. I'm ready to sign a lifetime friendship contract right now!"

I froze for a second. Why was she in this group?

The chat exploded instantly.

"Oh my goodness! Is that the legendary Galoria royal?"

"Wait. Isn't Jack a total germaphobe? Why is he helping her? That's wild."

"Wow! Is she the new admin hire? She's stunning."

Before Emily showed up, I had been handling all the admin work at the firm for free.

Now, it looked like she was here to take my place.

I scrolled through the comments in silence, then quietly exited the chat and deleted it.

I had already decided to leave. Seeing a glimpse of their future life together didn't hurt as much as I thought it would.

I remembered how, right after we graduated, Jack used to post about me constantly. He would snap candid shots of me organizing case files or updating his schedule.

Everyone at the firm knew he was into me.

And with that unspoken affection lingering between us, even the most tedious law office tasks felt like something out of a love story.

But as Jack's career took off, everything changed.

Eventually, he banned anyone from posting anything about me in the group.

My departure was only days away now.

One of the coworkers I had grown close to called me, saying Jack had lost it. She made a passing comment that Emily wasn't as meticulous as I was, and Jack retaliated by cutting her year-end bonus.

I ended up transferring her 10,000 dollars on the side just to stop her from quitting in a fit of rage.

Back at the apartment where I had lived for ten years—an apartment that would never truly be mine—I started packing.

As I passed the bookshelf, I paused at the photo album Jack had given me, filled with memories from the last decade.

Every photo in there captured a surprise Jack had given me.

Ten years ago, he promised he would give me 999 romantic gestures before walking me down the aisle.

The album stopped at year four. The last photo was of me giving him a rare Rolex to celebrate his first partnership at the firm. He had been so thrilled that he insisted we take a photo together.

This morning, I saw that same watch again in Emily's photo. The shine of it now felt cruel, like it was mocking me and everything I believed in.

That 999-page custom album had just one page left blank.

So much for forever. I didn't bother flipping through the rest.

Clutching the album to my chest, I walked downstairs to the open courtyard and lit it on fire with a lighter.

As the flames devoured the pictures, they took ten years of my youth with them.

Jack showed up just in time to see the fire. His face went pale as a ghost.

He rushed over, shoved me to the ground, and tried to reach out to save it.

But the scorching heat kept him at bay; his hand turned bright red the moment it got close.

Furious, he stomped out the flames and shouted at me, "Are you insane? You just destroyed all our memories like they meant nothing!"

Trembling, I pushed myself up from the ground and brushed the ash off my clothes.

The firelight flickered across my face as I replied coldly, "Relax. I found a cockroach inside. Figured I'd just burn it along with the album."

"Laura..." His voice cracked. "Why are you doing this?"

Jack stared at me in disbelief. "We spent ten years filling that album. You said we would show it at our wedding. How could you just burn it? If you saw a cockroach, you could have waited for me, or at least messaged me. I would have handled it."

I didn't even bother looking at him.

The man standing in front of me wasn't the same one who once looked at me like I was his entire world.

"You've been so busy lately. I didn't want to bother you with something so trivial," I said.

He stood beside me, staring at the smoldering ashes. His eyes were filled with regret.

What a joke. He was the one who threw away our ten years for another woman, and now he was standing here trying to look heartbroken?

I turned to leave, but he thought I was sulking and pulled me into his arms.

The scent of her Chanel perfume hit me so hard. I couldn't stop sneezing.

It was Emily's signature perfume.

He didn't let go. Instead, he held me tighter, like he was trying to make up for something.

"Are you getting sick? I'm sorry. I know I've been distant. Once this rush is over, I'll make it up to you. Let's retake the photos, okay? We'll recreate every moment."

If it were in the past, those words would have melted me. But after the hospital incident and how he forgot about my allergy, like it never mattered, I had learned not to lie to myself anymore.

Once he had calmed down, I pushed his hand away and said, "You don't need to apologize. If you really feel bad, just throw me a birthday party."

I would be leaving in three days, and I just wanted to experience one last celebration with him.

My request was simple, but his expression tensed immediately.

Just as he was about to speak, his phone rang.

He glanced at the screen and quickly mumbled, "It's work. I've got to take this. Don't wait up tonight, okay? I meant what I said. I'll make it up to you. Don't overthink."

He spoke while backing away, and by the time he finished his sentence, he was already halfway down the street.

Deep down, I knew that was Emily's custom ringtone. But I was done calling him out on his lies.

...

Early the next morning, the party setup team arrived, and so did Emily. She claimed she was there to "oversee her design".

After a full day of setup, it finally hit me. This was just a watered-down version of the Valentine's party she had thrown.

Once the staff left, she sauntered over to me, her tone sweet and smug. "Laura, everyone's worked so hard. What do you think? Is it grand enough for someone of your status?"

I glanced at the Tiffany necklace around her neck—the one Jack had once given me—and replied coolly, "It's everything you like. Suits you perfectly."

Her smile stiffened. Then, without warning, she picked up a crystal figurine and smashed it on the floor.

The shards cut her foot, and she immediately burst into tears.

Before I could react, Jack slapped me and said, "What the hell is wrong with you? Emily took time off work to help, and this is how you treat her? If you don't like what she did, do it yourself!"

He didn't give me a chance to explain. He scooped her up and rushed out the door.

I sat alone on the couch all night, staring into the empty living room.

I guess that made sense. After all these years, Jack was really all I had.

When the birthday cake arrived, I unwrapped the box—it was mango again—Emily's favorite. Jack had somehow managed to forget about my allergy, as if it never mattered completely. Still, I cut myself a small slice of the mango cake.

I lit the candles, closed my eyes, and made a wish. "May we never meet again in this lifetime."

In the end, I didn't eat the cake. The allergy wasn't worth it.

When the countdown ended, I grabbed my suitcase and walked away without looking back.

On the way to the airport, I sent Jack one final message. "We're done. Don't contact me again."

It wasn't even a breakup.

With just one message, I said goodbye to the last ten years of my youth.