He Never Listened to Me. Now He Can't!

He looked up, confused. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out his hearing aid. After fixing it, he turned to me and asked, “What did you just say? Sorry, I didn't catch that.”

When he is with me, he doesn't bother to check his hearing aid. He knows I will continue repeating myself patiently. But when he is with Stacy, his hearing aid will always remain fixed because, certainly, every single word coming out of Stacy’s mouth is worth millions of dollars he can't afford to miss.

But this time, I didn't bother to repeat myself as I said, “Nothing that was important to you.”

He looked at me with a pair of eyes that said he didn't believe my words and continued looking with a pair of questioning eyes.

I sighed. Then I stared deep into his eyes. I tried my best to stay calm before I said, “Ask her to leave. This is our private celebration, not your business party that you must tag your assistant along with.”

Hearing this, he lost whatever little patience he had for me. He grabbed my arms and dragged me into a corner. “Evelyn, are you insane?”

“Asking a guest to leave the party, that's humiliating. I thought you were more mature than this.”

“Can you stop being jealous of Stacy?” He barked.

While we were in the middle of an argument, Stacy stood up from her seat and walked up to us. She looked guilty and regretful as she said, “Mrs Watson, if you dislike me being here, I’ll just leave. Please don't yell at him. He has a hearing impairment. He gets uncomfortable when the sound is too loud.”

My voice seeking justice was tagged as ‘loud’ by her. She kinda forgot; a month ago, she forced Enzo to attend her college reunion party just to show off her status. His friends turned out to be the loudest music band in the city. The whole night, Enzo stayed there, listening to them, drunk and singing. Later that night, when he returned home, his ears were bleeding, yet he didn't forget to review the band with positive comments.

Before I could reply to her, the music in the hall suddenly changed, and the event organiser turned to us. He politely asked us to dance.

But it was Bachata. I didn't know its dance form.

I turned to the event organiser and said, “It's bachata. I asked for Salsa.”

“Salsa?” He turned to look at Enzo, confused. “But Mr. Watson especially said it should be Bachata.”

I froze.

When we were discussing our party, Enzo asked me to choose the venue while the dishes and other setups would be selected by him because he also wanted to be involved. I believed him. But only now did I discover why.

Stacy stepped forward, giggling and excited. “I love Bachata. But it's a couple dance. Mr. Watson, can you please accompany me?”

Enzo didn't even hesitate before saying yes. He gently grabbed her hands and led her to the stage, completely forgetting that I was his life partner, not Stacy, and that the celebration was supposed to be our Anniversary Gala.

I looked around, clearly looked around. From the moment I entered here, I should have understood. The decoration, the dishes, the music, none of it suited my mood. Those were all Stacy’s preferences.

I watched Enzo and Stacy from the corner. They looked romantic and sensual. They were so close that in the dim light it looked like Enzo was kissing Stacy’s lips, while she was completely resting on his waist.

I couldn't help clenching my fists, a sharp pang hitting my heart. A cold realization struck me.

The third person in this party was not Stacy; it was me. I wasn't invited to my own party.

Well, I don't like to stay where I’m not invited. Be it a gala or a relationship. Goodbye, Enzo.