Chapter 2 The Last Straw

When I pushed open the front door, the living room was completely dark.

I did not turn on the lights. Instead, I made my way to the couch and sat down in the darkness.

Darkness felt safe. At the very least, it spared me from looking at all the familiar things around me.

At two in the morning, the electronic lock at the front door beeped.

Conrad stepped inside, carrying the faint scent of alcohol and the chill of the night air. He switched on the living room light and visibly froze when he saw me sitting on the couch.

"Why are you sitting in the dark? Couldn't sleep?" He kicked off his shoes as he spoke casually.

"I couldn't sleep." I watched him hang his suit jacket on the coat rack.

"How did things go in Valoria?" I asked the question lightly.

Conrad paused for half a second. "Pretty smoothly. Just had meetings back-to-back all day. I'm exhausted."

He walked over and automatically reached out to ruffle my hair. I tilted my head away. His hand froze in midair. A faint crease appeared between his brows.

"What is it? Are you still upset about coming in last at the dinner tonight?" He withdrew his hand, sounding both helpless and indulgent.

"Seraphina, you're 30 years old. Why are you still comparing yourself to those younger girls over something so meaningless?"

I looked at the matter-of-fact expression on his face. "You never went to Valoria, did you?"

The hand loosening his tie stopped. He lowered his gaze to me, and for a brief moment, panic flashed across his eyes.

"Who told you that? Everyone at the company knew I was supposed to be in Valoria."

He walked over to the water dispenser and poured himself a glass.

"Summer forgot to turn off the speakerphone."

Conrad stopped drinking. For nearly 30 seconds, neither of us spoke.

Then he turned around and sighed. "Since you heard it, I won't hide it from you. You're right. I didn't go to Valoria. The flight was canceled."

He pulled out a chair and sat down. His tone was so open and relaxed that he might as well have been discussing the weather.

"Summer had a rough day at work and was crying about quitting. The project she's handling is finally gaining momentum. If she left now, it would be a huge loss for the company. As her boss, is it really that unreasonable for me to comfort an employee and send her a gift?"

I stared at the face I had known for seven years. For the first time, it felt unfamiliar.

"Does comforting an employee require calling her babe?" My voice was barely above a whisper.

Conrad rubbed his forehead, irritation creeping into his expression.

"Seraphina, can you stop being unreasonable? She just graduated from college. Girls that age fall for that kind of thing. I was just playing along and telling her what she wanted to hear. It didn't mean anything."

He stood and walked to the entryway, retrieving a paper bag from his briefcase.

"On my way back, I passed the university area and saw that place still selling roasted sweet potatoes. I grabbed one for you."

He set the grease-stained paper bag on the coffee table. "Wasn't this your favorite? Eat it while it's hot and stop being mad."

Then he turned and headed into the bathroom. A moment later, the sound of running water filled the apartment.

I looked at the shriveled roasted sweet potato.

Seven years ago, when we were broke, we had survived on a single roasted sweet potato between us. Back then, it had tasted sweet.

But Conrad had forgotten something.

Just last month, I had been diagnosed with stomach cancer. The doctor had repeatedly warned me not to eat hard-to-digest foods like this.

The shower continued running.

I rose from the couch and walked over to the coat rack. A length of pink ribbon peeked out from Conrad's jacket pocket.

Carefully, I pulled it free. It was a certificate of authenticity from a luxury jewelry house. The item listed was a custom pink diamond necklace.

Engraving: S&C.

Summer and Conrad.

So this was the meaningless little act he claimed was only for show.

I slipped the certificate back into the pocket exactly as I had found it.

Then I walked over to the coffee table, picked up the roasted sweet potato, and dropped it into the trash. It landed with a dull thud. Along with it went the last shred of hope I still had for him.