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.