Chapter 1
On my third anniversary with Edward Brooks, I opened that familiar chat window and stared at the little streak badge that marked our messages.
It had been 987 days now.
From dating to marriage, that number was like a testament to our love.
I snapped a photo of the candlelit room and sent it to him: [Waiting for you.]
Edward saw it right away, but didn't reply.
On a whim, I opened up his following list.
I was still pinned at the top, but right below me was a profile I didn't recognize.
Curious, I tapped on it—the most recent post was just ten minutes ago.
[Who knew a 30-day chat streak could earn you dessert? Thanks, chat buddy, for the treat!]
The picture showed a streak-badge-themed cake, and in the bottom right corner was Edward's keychain—he hadn't even had time to put it down yet.
I couldn't take my eyes off that page for ages—their streak badge stood out, glowing for thirty days straight.
Outside, the sky kept getting darker, and the dripped wax had gathered at the bottom of the candlestick.
I glanced down at my phone—our 987-day streak badge had quietly fizzled out just moments ago.
However, Edward hadn't even noticed.
*****
My thumb hovered above the screen for a long moment before I finally set the phone down with a wry smile.
Just as I reached for the cutlery, the front door swung open.
Edward walked in, a smoothie cup in hand. He placed it on the table, then frowned when he noticed the knife and fork already in my grip.
"You started without me? I brought you a smoothie. Drink it while it's still cold."
A wave of relief washed over me. Of course Edward wouldn't be that kind of man.
After all, he was the classic math-brained, no-nonsense guy who had once complained when I begged him to keep our chat streak alive.
"It's such a waste of time—distracts me from studying," he'd said back then.
It took plenty of persistence on my part, girlfriend privileges included, just to get him to cooperate.
I took the cup with a smile and took a big sip. "Sorry, I know work's been tough for you..."
Then came the taste—wrong, all wrong.
I gagged and rushed to the bathroom to spit it out.
There was mango in the smoothie.
Edward hurried after me, a hand on my back.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
Without a word, I walked to the sink and poured the smoothie down the drain.
Then I threw the empty cup at him.
"There was mango in it!" I hissed.
Edward visibly panicked. He pulled me into a hug. "I'm sorry... I didn't know it had mango."
On our first date, I'd accidentally taken a sip of his mango smoothie. My body had seized up right in front of him.
Edward, who always keeps his composure even when the world was falling apart, suddenly looked completely undone.
Afterward, he promised, "I'll make sure you never see another mango as long as I'm around."
That was when I noticed it—a crumb of something sweet on his collar. The exact same shade as the cake in that photo.
I looked up, my eyes locking on his. "Why were you out so late?"
Edward couldn't meet my eyes, rubbed his nose, and his voice came out uneasy.
"Had to work late at the office," he muttered.
Right then, I just knew—he was lying.
*****
Feigning physical discomfort, I suggested we sleep separately for the first time.
He hesitated briefly before nodding in agreement.
Lying in bed, I tormented myself by scrolling through the stranger's profile.
Her name was Claire Summers—Edward's newly hired secretary and his direct junior from university.
The first post read: [Ugh, who understands the saving grace of having your boss as your senior after leaving campus? On my first day, the boss asked about my preferences and brought me a smoothie. He even went to three different shops for it. Obsessed!]
The accompanying photo showed the same mango smoothie Edward had brought for me.
I remembered when we were dating, I had begged him to buy me a specific nut brittle from a shop three blocks away.
After much pleading, he returned three minutes later with a different pastry.
"That nut brittle shop is too far. Spending so much time just for candy isn't worth it. This pastry is delicious too, try it."
The pastry was indeed tasty, but I couldn't bring myself to feel happy about it.
Later, I realized he was like this with everyone—always stingy with his time. Yet, he still made time to buy me that little treat.
I told myself he loved me, just in his own way. Now, it all felt like a cruel joke.
The second post said: [Had a work disagreement with the boss. There's a week-long business trip tomorrow, and I wasn't speaking to him. Unexpectedly, he showed up tonight with a necklace and nut brittle to make up. Best boss ever!]
The picture featured a Van Cleef & Arpels necklace and the exact nut brittle from the shop I used to love.
Not long ago, Edward had suddenly asked me, "What kind of gifts do girls usually like?"
Thrilled that he seemed to be finally catching on, I pointed to a picture on my phone. "Necklaces, especially this Van Cleef & Arpels one."
I felt my eyes start to blur.
During a long-distance phase that lasted a year, we had a fierce argument.
In the heat of the moment, I blurted out "break up," immediately regretting it afterward.
Fortunately, he finally replied with two words: [Not happening.]
Tears streamed down my face, moved that someone so rational would still fight for me.
The third post read: [Made a small mistake today that wasted the whole team's effort. I hid in the stairwell, crying, and the boss found me. He actually comforted me.]
The image showed Edward holding Claire.
Large tears fell onto the back of my hand.
When my parents died in a car accident, I lay beside their bodies, weeping uncontrollably.
Edward stood nearby, watching me with cold detachment as if I were a stranger.
"You've lost your parents, your pillars of support. From now on, you need to learn independence. Don't cry so easily over everything," he had said.
It turned out that he wasn't emotionless—he just never let himself break for me.