My girlfriend, Odessa Wilkerson, had secretly planned a dazzling fireworks display, and I naively thought it was a surprise meant for me.

Inspired by what I believed was her romantic gesture, I bought a ring, ready to propose on that very day.

But my excitement turned to confusion when, instead of receiving a heartfelt surprise, she handed me a plane ticket—a solo trip she’d planned for me without any prior discussion.

Canceling the flight, I went to the fireworks site instead.

Amid the vibrant lights of the fireworks, Odessa stood with another man, locked in a passionate kiss. They looked like a couple straight out of a fairytale, illuminated by the glow of explosions painting the sky. Tears of joy streamed down their faces as if they were celebrating a love they couldn’t contain.

Later that evening, scrolling through social media, I stumbled upon the man’s post: “Fireworks fade, but her love for me will forever burn bright!”  

The comments were filled with blessings, congratulating their love, while I lay shattered, struck by the drone she had been operating. Losing my footing, I plummeted from the mountaintop.  

When I regained consciousness, Odessa was sitting by my hospital bed, immersed in her phone with a radiant smile lighting up her face.  

“Who was that?” I asked weakly, my voice barely above a whisper.

She looked up, startled, quickly suppressing her smile as though she had just remembered something serious. “It’s good to see you awake. I’m your neighbor. Get well soon.”

Before I could respond, she hurried out of the room. Turning away from the door, I reached for my phone.

“Leah,” I said, addressing my older sister, “about that arranged marriage you mentioned before—I’m ready to go through with it.”  

——

My sister was stunned. After confirming I wasn’t joking, her voice brimmed with relief.  

There was a long pause on the other end before Leah replied, her voice a mix of surprise and relief. “It’s about time you moved on! A girlfriend who keeps you in the shadows for five years? She was never serious about staying.”

“When can you come back? The family you declined before hasn’t given up hope for the arrangement.”

I had spent five years with Odessa, staunchly refusing to believe she was hiding our relationship just to keep her options open. But now that she was going to great lengths to distance herself from me, I had my answer. It was time for me to walk away.  

“Soon,” I said. “Let me sort out my place first. I’ll leave as soon as I sell the house.”  

Unexpectedly, Odessa returned to the ward in haste, claiming she needed her car keys.  

“Sell? Who’s selling what?” she asked, pausing briefly to listen to a voice message.  

The house we shared had been combined into one. Selling it would require separating the units again, but I hadn’t planned on hiding it from her.  

However, she didn’t seem to catch my words, too immersed in listening to her voice messages. She grabbed her keys and casually said, “The doctor said you might have memory loss. I thought you really forgot everything.”  

Her tone turned accusatory. “You didn’t give me a heads-up before showing up at the fireworks site. You know that gave me the feeling of being ambushed!”  

Her bold deflection left me speechless.  

So this was why, when I first woke up in the hospital, she feigned aloofness and pretended we weren’t close, even though no one else was around.  

Ten minutes earlier, when she told me she was just my “neighbor,” her expression was detached, as if showing polite concern for a stranger. No guilt.  

But then again, maybe she did feel guilty about what happened on the mountaintop. Otherwise, she wouldn't have lost control of the drone and caused it to fall on my head. At first, I thought her haste to leave was because she didn’t know how to face me.  

What a joke. She didn’t care about me at all.  

“Sorry, miss” I said, faking confusion. “My mind’s still a bit foggy from the fall—I didn’t recognize you right away.”  

She offered a vague response, keeping up her own charade. But when she turned to look at me, noticing my unusually distant demeanor, confusion flickered across her face. The man who had always clung to her affectionately, even in private, was suddenly acting formal and reserved. She scanned the room, ensuring no one else was around, then leaned into my embrace, attempting to soothe me.

“Leif, let’s not do this here,” she said, leaning closer and dropping her voice. “There are so many people around. Let’s keep pretending. You focus on recovering, okay? Once we’re home, I’ll make it up to you.”

I smiled faintly and gently pushed her away. “Please, keep your distance, miss. We’re just neighbors. You wouldn’t want people getting the wrong idea, would you?”

She froze, puzzled by my reaction.  

In private, I had always called her affectionate names like honey or babe. But now, the cold detachment of miss was the only title I deemed fit for her. She opened her mouth to argue, but before she could persist, a doctor entered the room for rounds, forcing her to retreat into her indifferent facade.

Before leaving, she still managed to offer a polite, almost rehearsed reminder.

“Rest well. Sometimes, neighbors are closer than family. Call me if you need anything.”

The doctor, noticing my strained smile, quipped with a chuckle, “Is your neighbor trying to win your heart? She’s too good at acting indifferent—makes you seem like you’re no one to her.”

The sting of his casual remark shattered any illusion I had tried to maintain. The truth behind his words cut deeply, unraveling the facade I had desperately clung to.

Odessa had always been a masterful actress. If the doctor hadn’t walked in, her performance would have gone unnoticed. For five years, she had kept our relationship a closely guarded secret. Every time I suggested we go public, she would artfully dodge the conversation with excuses—claims about timing, her career, or some other convenient reason. Each excuse chipped away at my confidence, leaving me to compromise again and again. Eventually, I questioned what I truly meant to her, even in my dreams.

Now, I had my answer. When she thought I’d lost my memory, she revealed her true feelings. To her, I was just a neighbor.

Thankfully, my injuries from the fall weren’t severe, and after three days of observation, the doctor discharged me. The hospital refunded the extra payments Odessa had made, and without hesitation, I transferred the amount back to her account.

Three days of silence passed before she finally called.

“You didn’t tell me you were getting discharged!” Her tone carried a hint of reproach. “I’ve been busy with work and couldn’t pick you up. The house is a mess, so stay at a hotel for now. I’ll send someone to clean up before bringing you home.”

“Okay,” I replied, swallowing the bitter urge to confront her.

But her location betrayed her words. She was at home, and in the background, a man’s voice echoed.

“Why isn’t the hot water running?”

She quickly hung up. It wasn’t hard to guess why she didn’t want me back at the house.

Soon after, she texted me the details of the hotel she’d arranged.

When I arrived, a bouquet of 99 roses awaited me in the lobby. Passersby admired the grand gesture, oblivious to the irony. These were the same flowers Odessa had once forbidden me to give her, fearing they might expose our relationship. Now, when I was resolved to let her go, she was finally treating me like someone worth envying.

Unmoved, I hired a courier to deliver the roses back to her house.

Later, the courier messaged me, almost as if out of sympathy:

“She looked thrilled when she saw the flowers. But then she jumped into her boyfriend’s arms. You can imagine the rest.”

Odessa, realizing her misstep, sent me a string of question marks, but I didn’t reply. Perhaps fearing I might show up at the house unannounced, she rushed to the hotel later that evening.

The first thing she did was confront me.

“Why did you send the flowers back home?” Her voice was sharp, her eyes probing mine for answers.

I met her gaze, my expression indifferent. “We’re just neighbors. It wouldn’t be appropriate for me to accept roses from you.”

Her confusion deepened. “You once said you wanted roses when you saw other men receiving them. What’s with the sudden change of heart? There’s no one else here—you don’t need to keep pretending we’re strangers.”

She didn’t understand that it was never about the roses themselves. What I wanted was for us to stand openly as a couple, for her to stop hiding me in the shadows.

The drive home was steeped in silence. Odessa kept glancing my way, but neither of us spoke. It was as though she assumed everything between us was still fine, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing within me.

As we neared the neighborhood, her phone rang. That same man’s voice came through, speaking urgently. Without hesitation, she pulled the car to a stop and turned to me.

“I have something urgent came up at the office. Got to go handle it. The house is just a few miles away—you can walk, and I’m sure it’ll be good exercise for you.”

Without another word, she drove off, leaving me standing on the roadside. The wind whipped at my face as I watched her car disappear into the distance.

With the icy wind biting at my skin, she left me there, alone. The bitter northern wind howled, cutting through my jacket like it wasn’t even there. Yet, she expected me to walk home, barely dressed for the cold.

By the time I reached my apartment, my fingers were stiff, and my face stung from the relentless wind. But that wasn’t the worst of it. By the time I reached home, the distinct scent of someone else’s perfume still lingered in the air—one that certainly didn’t belong to me.

I opened the windows to let in the frigid, cleansing air and began packing my things. It took less than an hour to gather everything Odessa had left at my place: clothes, makeup, books she claimed she’d read someday but never did.

By the time I finished, I had delivered every last item next door to her apartment.

Her place, as always, was pristine and untouched. Not a trace of me remained there, just as it had been from the beginning. Odessa never allowed me to leave anything behind—no toothbrush, no sweatshirt, not even a stray pair of socks.

That is, except for one glaring inconsistency in her closet—a pair of men’s underwear that didn’t belong to me. She must have been in such a rush that she forgot to hide it.

It took me the rest of the day to restore my home to the way it had been five years ago. The couple’s items we bought but never used—trinkets meant to symbolize a love that never saw the light of day—I had them hauled away by the junk collector.

By the time I was finished, it felt like everything had been reset. Aside from the door I walked through, Odessa and I were right back where we started—at square one.

Just as I was about to call a contractor to undo the renovations we had made together, Odessa came home.

“Leif, why haven’t you been answering your phone or replying to my messages? I went out of my way to have dinner with you, and now I have to pick you up too?”

I glanced at her, noting the faint red marks under her collar. My voice was flat as I replied, “I’ve been busy. Cleaning up the place. Didn’t check my phone.”

She scanned the room, her expression quickly souring. “Busy with what? I cleaned up this place just yesterday.”

“Throwing out some things I don’t need.”

She frowned, her gaze landing on the cardboard boxes stacked near the door. “I told you not to buy that stuff in the first place. Now you’re wasting time throwing it out,” she grumbled, and without hesitation, she picked up one of the boxes and carried it outside. 

I followed her, watching as she casually discarded the items into the dumpster—things meant to commemorate five years of memories. They meant as little to her as I apparently did.

Later, at the restaurant, she ordered our usual seafood-boil and sides but added a dish I hated—milt or fish sperm.

My appetite evaporated instantly. This time, I decided not to hold back.

“Waiter,” I said calmly, “take this dish away and just bring the check, please.”

Odessa grabbed the plate and pulled it toward her. “Are you still upset because I didn’t visit you in the hospital? Leif, you fell down the mountain on your own. Don’t pin your clumsiness on me.”

I’d seen her care before, so her indifference now was impossible to ignore. The woman who once insisted on rushing me to the hospital for a paper cut couldn’t even be bothered to visit when I was admitted for three days. The woman who avoided milt because she knew I hated it was now ordering it. She had reverted to the person I met five years ago.

I gave her a faint smile, “You know I hate it. I feel like throwing up just seeing it.”

“Then don’t eat it!” she snapped. Her irritation didn’t bother me. If anything, it amused me. I leaned back in my chair, my smile fading as I began to speak. 

“Maybe it’s time we break—”

“Odessa!” he exclaimed with a grin. “After all these years, you still remember I love milt!”

Before I could finish, a man appeared at our table, interrupting me.  I looked up to meet the smug, condescending gaze of the man standing beside her. Odessa shifted in her seat to make room, and the man slid in beside her, sitting directly across from me.

“Let me introduce myself,” he said, smiling. “I’m Odessa’s boyfriend, Kirk Washington.”

I didn’t respond, and he reached over to pinch Odessa’s cheek affectionately.

“Why don’t you introduce me to your friend here?”

Odessa’s expression faltered. It was clear she hadn’t anticipated Kirk showing up. She avoided my eyes, her hands fidgeting with the napkin in her lap. I decided to make it easy for her. Smiling faintly, I answered for her. 

“I’m her neighbor, Leif Delgado. We’re just sharing a table since the place is packed.”

Odessa’s head snapped toward me, her eyes momentarily wide with shock before she exhaled in visible relief. Kirk didn’t seem to notice, leaning back with an easy grin.