Chapter 1

The day that was supposed to mark our seventh anniversary began with a text from Alex Carter, my partner, saying he'd be working late.

His words felt routine, almost rehearsed—another missed celebration, another promise to make it up later.

By afternoon, however, the truth surfaced in the most public way possible. Scrolling through Instagram, a post from Emily Brooks stopped me cold.

There they were, side by side: two marriage licenses, her name next to his.

The caption read: [Thanks to my favorite boss—officially official today!]

Emily had been his protégée once, a young professional he'd guided early in her career. Now they worked together, and apparently, they'd just become husband and wife.

A strange calm settled over me. There were no tears, no frantic calls—only stillness. Under her photo, I typed a brief, polite congratulations and left it at that.

Almost instantly, my phone lit up with voice messages from Alex.

His voice was tense, rushed. "Sophie, please listen. Emily's family was pressuring her—they were about to force her into an arrangement. This was just to get them off her back, a legal formality and nothing more. It doesn't change anything between us. We can celebrate another day, I swear."

I didn't respond. Instead, I filled out the paperwork for an international transfer at work and booked a medical procedure for an abortion.

For Alex and me, there would be no next time.

*****

The carefully wrapped anniversary gift sat on the table, a hollow weight settling in my chest.

Inside was a pregnancy test—the surprise I had planned for our seventh year together.

But none of the joy I imagined came to be.

No shared excitement, no happy tears at the thought of a new life.

Only my own quiet disappointment.

With a slow breath, I dropped the box into the trash.

Leaving behind a table of untouched dishes, I paid and walked out of the restaurant.

My phone lit up with messages from Alex, each one an excuse. I ignored them.

When the calls started, I turned it off, tired of the sound.

A cold wind blew in from the river as I made my way home.

The lights were on in the living room, the table covered with an elaborate spread.

Alex paced nearby, phone pressed to his ear, impatience clear on his face.

At the sound of the door, he turned. Seeing me, his shoulders relaxed a little.

"Where were you? I went to the restaurant—they said you'd already left. Your phone was off. Why?" he asked, frustration edging his voice.

I didn't answer, only smiled without warmth.

"Shouldn't you be with your new bride tonight? Why come looking for me?"

He opened his mouth, then closed it. My tone seemed to anger him.

He retorted, voice rising, "Sophia, have a little heart. Emily was nearly forced into marriage by her family—some awful man for money.

"She's young. She has her whole life ahead. As her boss, how could I not step in?"

"We talked about this. The marriage license isn't real. It's just to protect her. Why can't you let it go?"

That self-righteous tone stung. I pushed down the bitterness and kept my voice cool. "Right. You're always helping. Too busy for me, but free for her. You two really are a better match..."

Ever since that scholarship student he sponsored became his assistant two years ago, something had shifted.

I was no longer his first priority, while Emily's needs always came first.

For the sake of our years together, I'd kept forgiving him, accepting his apologies. Now it all felt empty.

Alex's breath grew uneven, anger flashing in his eyes. "What are you even saying? Can't you think past your own jealousy?

"Emily's had a hard life. I'm just being a good boss. Do you have to twist everything?"

Suddenly, he grabbed a small gift box from the table and tossed it near my feet, a mocking note in his voice.

"There, isn't this what you've been whining about all night—a present?

"Emily was spot on—some people just have to be so dramatic, blowing up the tiniest thing like it's the end of the world..."

I glanced down at the box on the floor.

There came a point when the heart grew too cold to feel pain.

After a long silence, I spoke, my voice strangely calm, "Alex, let's break up."

Maybe I spoke too softly, or maybe he was too focused on his phone.

He murmured "Mm," a faint, distracted smile on his face as he typed a reply.

It seemed that he hadn't heard me.

Finishing his message, Alex looked up, confused. "What did you say?"

I said, "It's nothing," not bothering to explain further.

Since I didn't make a scene, he just pointed at the dining table.

"I packed up a bunch of food for you, just eat," he said.

I shook my head. "I already ate," I replied, feeling empty inside.

Not a single dish on the table was something I liked.

There were even two seafood dishes I was allergic to.

A bitter thought crossed my mind: After seven years, did he never learn what I liked, or did he just forget?

My refusal darkened his expression. He was about to speak when his phone lit up.

Emily's sweet, custom ringtone filled the room.

As if to prove he had nothing to hide, he answered the call right in front of me.

Emily's helpless sob came through the speaker. "Mr. Carter... I cut my finger while cooking. What should I do?"

Alex sprang to his feet, already grabbing his coat. "Is it bad? Don't panic. I'm on my way."

He rushed out without a backward glance.

I had lost count of how many times this had happened.

The tears I had been holding back finally broke free.

Heavy drops fell straight to the floor, one after another.

With trembling hands, I opened the relocation offer sitting in my inbox and hit "Accept."

Then, on my phone, I booked an appointment for three days later. The appointment was for a procedure to end the pregnancy.