I’m stuck at work. Happy 2nd anniversary, babe. I’ll make it up to you this weekend.
At 7:15, I was seated two tables away from him in a packed Chicago restaurant, watching him kiss another woman as if I had never existed.
For a few seconds, I was completely frozen. My hand still clutched the small gift bag I had brought—a vintage silver watch he had once admired in a store window. I had spent an hour getting ready. I had even driven downtown to surprise him because something about his message felt distant, rehearsed. Now I understood why.
