The air in Aunt Maya’s condo was as pristine as the view from her balcony, overlooking the bustling city below. I sat across from her on a velvet armchair, my hands wrapped around a warm cup of tea. She looked at me with expectant eyes, her smile soft and full of hope.

“So, you’re finally getting married,” she said, her excitement unmistakable. “After all these years of waiting for Kyle, it’s about time!”

I hesitated, staring into the amber liquid in my cup. “Yes,” I said quietly, then added, “but it’s not to Kyle.”

Her smile froze, confusion flickering across her face. “Not to Kyle? What are you saying, Katheryn?”

I set my cup down, carefully choosing my words. “I’m marrying someone else. It’s... not Kyle anymore.”

Aunt Maya’s brows furrowed as she leaned forward, searching my face. “Is this because of your parents’ arrangement? Are they forcing you into something?”

“No, it’s not like that,” I said, shaking my head. “This is my decision. I’m doing this for me.”

Her worry didn’t ease. “But why? After everything you and Kyle have been through…”

I drew in a deep breath, steadying my voice. “Things with Kyle have been falling apart. There’s… someone else. A third party was involved.”

The words felt like gravel leaving my throat, but Aunt Maya didn’t press further. Instead, she sighed, her expression softening.

“If that’s your decision, Katheryn, then I’ll respect it,” she said. “I just want you to be happy, truly happy.” she reached for my hand and squeezed it. I gave her a small smile.

“Thank you,” I whispered, feeling a lump rise in my throat.

Aunt Maya stood and motioned for me to follow. As we walked toward the door, her husband’s deep voice echoed faintly from another room, humming along to a tune on the radio. The condo was the picture of comfort, a stark contrast to the turmoil I felt inside.

When we stepped out into the hallway, the last thing I expected was to see Kyle.

And Jane.

They were standing a few doors down, her hand lightly resting on his arm as they spoke in hushed tones. I froze, and Aunt Maya stiffened beside me.

Her eyes narrowed, lips curling into a sneer. “Unbelievable,” she muttered under her breath.

Kyle turned and spotted us. His eyes widened, and he stepped toward us, awkwardness evident in his stride. “Katheryn? Aunt Maya? I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Apparently,” Aunt Maya said icily. “I'm living in this place.”

Kyle ignored her tone, gesturing toward Jane. “I was just helping Jane settle into her new place. She moved in yesterday, and there were a few things she needed help with.”

Before Aunt Maya could unleash whatever sharp remark was brewing, I gently touched her arm. “It’s fine,” I said quietly.

“Fine?” Aunt Maya hissed, her gaze darting between Kyle and me.

Kyle turned to me. “Katheryn, wait for me. I’ll finish helping Jane, and we can head home together, okay?”

I nodded, my throat too tight to respond.

Aunt Maya gave Kyle one last glare before turning to me. She reached for my hand, her grip firm but comforting. “Take care of yourself,” she said, her voice filled with both love and warning. Then, without another glance at Kyle, she retreated into the condo.

I stood there for a moment, rooted to the spot, before heading toward the lobby.

Twenty minutes passed before Kyle sent a voice message: “Hey, Katheryn. It's me, Jane. My faucet pipe is leaking. So, I asked for Kyle's help to fix it, so go ahead and leave without him. he’ll see you at home.”

I stared at the message, my emotions a tangled mess of resignation and anger.

Just as I was about to step outside, my phone buzzed with a call. I hesitated before answering.

“Hello?”

What greeted me was Jane's muffled sobs and Kyle's angry voice.

“Why are you so mean to Jane, Katheryn,” Kyle said angrily. “I don’t know what she did to deserve your harsh words, but you need to stop being such a jealous woman. It’s pathetic.”

My breath caught in my throat, disbelief washing over me.

His words hung in the air, sharp and venomous.

I ended the call without replying, my heart pounding in my chest. The weight of everything—the years wasted, the lies, the humiliation—pressed down on me all at once.

As I stepped out into the chilly evening air, I realized something: I was done. Done waiting, done hoping, done with Kyle.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt free.

The door clicked shut behind me, and the stillness of my apartment felt suffocating. The day had drained every ounce of strength I had, but the ache in my chest was worse than the exhaustion. Kyle’s words still echoed in my mind—accusing, sharp, unjust. I hadn’t done anything wrong, and yet I could feel the weight of his doubts pressing down on me.

This was Jane’s doing; I was sure of it. She had mastered the art of sowing discord, weaving her lies so delicately that Kyle couldn’t see the damage she was causing. He always took her side now, questioning my every move, my every word.

I rubbed my temples, trying to push the thoughts away as I prepared for bed. But just as I reached for the bedside lamp, a familiar photo album caught my eye on the corner shelf.

It was the album Kyle had made for us—a collection of our shared memories over the past decade. I hadn’t opened it in months, maybe years. With hesitant fingers, I picked it up and settled onto the bed, the weight of it heavier than I remembered.

The first page greeted me with a picture of us at the beach, my hair windswept as Kyle grinned beside me. I turned the page. More photos—our first anniversary dinner, a road trip to the mountains, silly snapshots from lazy weekends.

Kyle had once said he would present this album at our wedding, a testament to our love story. But that wedding was never going to happen.

The realization hit me harder than I expected. The life we had imagined together, the promises we had made—it was all crumbling. And as I stared at those frozen moments, I didn’t feel nostalgia. I felt anger.

With the album in my hands, I walked to the parking lot. The cold night air stung my skin, but I didn’t care.

In the corner of the lot, I found an empty spot away from the cars. I placed the album on the ground, struck a match, and set it aflame.

The fire licked at the edges of the pages, curling them into blackened ash. Faces and moments dissolved into nothing, the memories reduced to embers. I watched the flames dance, a strange sense of freedom rising within me.

“Katheryn!”

I turned to see Kyle running toward me. His eyes widened as he noticed the burning album. “What are you doing?”

He pushed past me, trying to stomp out the fire with his shoes. It was no use; the flames had already consumed most of it.

“What is wrong with you?” he shouted, spinning to face me. “Why would you do this?”

I folded my arms, my voice calm but laced with bitterness. “There were too many insects in it. I thought it was best to burn it.”

“Insects?” he repeated, his tone incredulous. “That album was precious! It was our memories!”

I didn’t respond, but my thoughts were loud. Was it really precious to you? Or was it just another thing you neglected, like me?

Kyle sighed and looked at the album sadly.. “You could have just waited for me so I could do something,” he said quickly. “Don't worry, we’ll start over, fill it with more pictures, more memories—just you and me.”

I smiled bitterly at his words, the weight of their emptiness settling over me. He didn’t realize how far apart we’d grown, how the cracks in our relationship had widened into chasms.

“You don’t have to do that,” I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. Do it with Jane instead.

Kyle’s eyes searched mine, as if trying to decipher my thoughts. “I’ll make it up to you,” he said firmly. “I’ll fix this. I promise.”

I didn’t believe him. Not anymore.

I turned away without another word, leaving him standing there beside the ashes of what once was. As I walked back to my apartment, the weight in my chest began to lift, replaced by a strange, quiet resolve.

I didn’t need Kyle to make promises he would never keep. I didn’t need another photo album filled with empty smiles.

What I needed was to let go—and this time, I was ready to.

The condo felt cold and unwelcoming when I returned. I wanted nothing more than to climb into bed and close my eyes, shutting out the world. But before I could, Kyle walked in, his footsteps purposeful, his face set with an expression I had grown weary of seeing—confusion laced with self-righteousness.

“You’ve been acting strangely, Katheryn,” he said, shutting the door behind him. “Is this because I’ve been busy?”

I didn’t respond, slipping off my shoes and heading towards the room. He followed me, wrapping his arms around me as I stood by the bed.

“I’ll make it up to you, Okay?” he murmured, his voice soft and soothing.

I almost snorted aloud. Make it up? That was an illusion—a promise Kyle had made countless times and never kept. The thought was laughable now, especially with Jane firmly entrenched in his life. I wondered, for the hundredth time, if he even realized how absurd he sounded. What woman in her right mind would be happy with her boyfriend spending so much time “helping” another woman behind her back?

Kyle pulled back slightly and sighed. “I’m upset too, you know. What you said to Jane earlier was uncalled for. I’m just helping her settle in. Why do you have to be so harsh?”

I bit my tongue, resisting the urge to correct him. I hadn’t said anything to Jane, much less anything harsh. But I had no energy to argue. Instead, I forced a small apology from my lips, hollow and devoid of meaning.

Kyle tilted his head, studying me. “What can I do to make things better?”

For a moment, I was quiet, then an idea came to mind. “I want to celebrate my birthday with you. Properly this time.”

He blinked, taken aback. “Your birthday? Of course! I’ll arrange everything.”

“And let’s do it tomorrow. I’m busy the day after,” I said and removed his arms wrapped around her. I felt repulsive and disgusted at the same time.

“Tomorrow?” Kyle frowned. “Why so soon?”

“I just am,” I said curtly. Trying to dismiss it as I don't want to dwell more into it.

Kyle hesitated but eventually nodded. “Fine. I’ll prepare something special.”

As he left the room to make arrangements, I didn’t need to guess who he’d call first. Jane, of course. I shook my head, thinking of how little time remained before I’d be out of this country, married to someone else—a stranger.

The next day, Kyle texted me an address. When I arrived, I stopped outside and set a timer on my phone. It was symbolic—the countdown to my departure, to a new chapter in my life. Then I walked in.

The space was humble, almost childlike in its design. Balloons and paper decorations hung awkwardly, as if someone had tried too hard. I didn’t need to guess who had planned it. Jane’s fingerprints were all over the immaturity.

“Do you like it?” Jane’s overly sweet voice startled me. She was smiling, but I could see the malice beneath her expression.

Before I could respond, something caught my eye—my blue sapphire jewelry set, sparkling against her neck. My parents had given it to me, and Kyle had borrowed it for his mother. So why was it here?

“It suits you,” I said dryly. “Secondhand things always do.” As I eyed the necklace around her neck.

Jane’s face turned red, and without warning, she picked up a vase and smashed it against the floor. The sound was sharp, drawing the attention of everyone around us. She began sobbing loudly, her cries echoing through the small room.

Kyle burst in moments later, his eyes scanning the scene. When he saw Jane crying and the broken vase, his glare landed on me.

“What happened?” he demanded.

Jane sniffled. “Katheryn said she hated the decorations. She got so angry she threw the vase.”

I said nothing, my face impassive.

Kyle’s anger boiled over. “If you didn’t like it, you could’ve decorated it yourself!” His voice rose, and before I could react, his hand struck my cheek, sending me stumbling to the floor. My palms landed on shards of the broken vase, and pain shot through my hands.

Kyle turned his back on me, helping Jane out of the room. The crowd dispersed soon after, leaving me alone in the aftermath.

I sat on a nearby chair, exhaling a long, weary sigh. My cheek throbbed, my hands stung, but I didn’t feel anything inside—no anger, no sadness. Just emptiness.

A soft voice startled me. “Are you alright?”

I looked up to see a man standing in front of me. He was handsome, with sharp features and a gentle air about him. In his hand was a small first-aid kit.

Without waiting for a response, he crouched and began cleaning my wounds. His touch was careful, his movements efficient.

“You should be more careful,” he said as he bandaged my hands.

I nodded. “Thank you.”

Before he left, I asked, “Will you join me for a moment?”

He hesitated, then smiled and nodded.

I lit a candle on a slice of cake, closed my eyes, and made a wish: “May we never meet again, Kyle.”

When I blew out the candle, the man smirked faintly, his eyes watching me intently as I stood to leave.

“Interesting,” he murmured, his voice low but clear.

And with that, I walked out, leaving everything behind.