Chapter 2
Ernesto said, "After everything we've been through these five years, if you want anything to make up for it, I'll give it to you..."
I cut him off. "No need. Just treat her well. Don't do to her what you did to me."
The private room fell silent.
I grabbed my bag. That cake, worth tens of thousands, sat on the table with its candles flickering, so beautiful it looked like something out of a dream. You could tell someone really put their heart into picking it out.
Without a hint of regret, I looked away and walked straight out the door.
Behind me, the gossip started bubbling up again.
"Seriously? Is Rose for real this time?"
"Come on, every time she storms off, she comes crawling back to Ernesto within a week. This time's no different."
"A week? I say she'll be back in three days, tops."
"Three days?"
Ernesto let out a soft scoff, his tone full of confidence.
"Give her three seconds, and she'll turn around," he said.
He was wrong.
This time, I was not going back.
I'm going to disappear from his life for good.
Ernesto came home in the dead of night.
The living room glowed with a soft, yellow lamp, something I'd always left on for him out of habit whenever he got back late.
He switched it off without a second glance, rubbed his brow, and went straight to the bathroom for a shower.
"Rosie, where's my bathrobe?" Ernesto called out.
Out of habit, he called for me, but got no response. The silence made him pause.
That was when he remembered that we'd broken up.
He slipped on his jacket, was about to step into the bedroom, but paused.
Thinking about all the traces of me still lingering inside, he changed direction and headed for the study instead.
The next morning, Ernesto slept in well past noon. When he finally opened his eyes, he found a familiar blanket draped over him.
He couldn't help but smirk as he got up and made his way to the living room.
The first thing he saw was Khloe Diaz's warm, genuine smile.
She said, "Mr. Nelson, I put a blanket over you while I was cleaning the study. It's that blanket Miss Lawrence made for you herself. Would you like breakfast now, or..."
Ernesto's smile stiffened on his face.
After a brief pause, he finally spoke, "Just make breakfast. Just cook up a bowl of that vital broth I always have."
Khloe paused, a bit unsure as she asked, "Are you talking about the vital broth Miss Lawrence always made for you?"
Ernesto paused, caught off guard.
Khloe continued, "Mr. Nelson, Miss Lawrence handpicked everything just for you, based on what your body needed. Every week, the soup was different..."
Hearing my name, Ernesto felt a sudden wave of irritation wash over him.
"Just fix me something, anything. I have a flight to catch after breakfast," he said.
When Ernesto went to his bedroom to change, he realized the apartment had been practically cleared out.
The bed looked untouched, as if no one had ever slept there, and the dress that used to hang beside his pilot uniform had vanished too.
It finally hit him that I was serious this time. His mouth tightened.
Khloe's cooking was always reliable, but Ernesto took one sip, frowned, and set his spoon down.
My cooking had raised his standards so high, nothing else tasted right to him anymore.
It wasn't until he was rushing to catch his afternoon flight that Ernesto felt a faint pain gnawing at his stomach.
Back when he was grinding away for his pilot's license, pushing himself so hard he'd skip meals and lose sleep, I was always the one carefully looking after his food.
Every time he woke up with a hangover, I'd always thoughtfully prepare a warm drink to soothe his stomach.
Ernesto had someone from the tower deliver him some stomach medicine, swallowed it in a hurry, and rushed off to join his crew.
After a round trip flight, Ernesto was famished.
He could never stand the bland plane food. Every time he landed from a long haul, I'd have a fresh, homemade meal waiting for him in an insulated container, still warm and ready to eat.
Ernesto couldn't believe it. After just one day apart, his body was already throwing in the towel before his heart even had a chance.
The more irritated Ernesto felt, the more he just wanted to get out. So, out of sheer frustration, he called Amiya and asked her to join him for dinner that night.
Without even thinking, Ernesto somehow ended up reserving a table at Rose's favorite restaurant, as if some invisible force was guiding him.'
Sitting in his usual window seat, Ernesto found himself lost in thought.
The place had an intimate vibe, tucked away on the top floor, and I used to plan all sorts of surprises for him here.
From slipping a diamond ring into a cake to even renting the billboard across the street just to declare my love for him.
But back then, he always found it annoying. He would just ask coldly,
"Rosie, are you a kid or what? Aren't you embarrassed?"
Ernesto was so caught up in his memories, he barely registered Amiya speaking to him.
"Ernesto, look, isn't that..." Amiya said.
Ernesto looked up and saw me standing at the entrance, clutching a huge bouquet of roses.
I was all glammed up, makeup on point, but my eyes were still a bit swollen and red.
It was obvious I'd been crying my eyes out last night.
Ernesto's lips curled into a barely noticeable smirk as he said, "See? What did I say? Rosie's just a dog. Look at her, not even a day, and she's already desperate to come running back to me."
Even as Ernesto was talking big, his body moved before he could stop himself. He stood up as soon as I got close.
He was about to say something, but stopped dead in his tracks, eyes wide open.
Because when I got near, I just walked right past him, as if he wasn't even there.
Who would've thought I'd run into Ernesto here?