I'll See the Lights Without Her

Less than three minutes after I transferred $100,000 along with the bills, Camille called me.

She asked helplessly, "What is it this time? Are you going to make an issue out of the household expenses just because our trip to Norhaven is canceled?"

I saved the fake photo to my phone and replied calmly, "Well, don't you always insist that feelings are one thing and finances are another?"

On the other end of the line, Camille fell silent.

She sighed. "Tristan, I know you're hurt. Once I get through this busy stretch, I'll book our flights to Norhaven again. I'll go with you for as long as you want. Don't make yourself miserable right now, okay?"

I said nothing.

Thinking I had backed down, she hurriedly added, "I have to get back to a meeting," and hung up.

The moment the screen went dark, two more credit card alerts appeared one after another.

"Card ending in 7392: $38,000 spent at Bellerose Atelier."

"Card ending in 7392: One custom anniversary cake ordered at The Grand Meridian."

I tightened my grip on the phone, then called the hotel's front desk.

"Hi, I'm an authorized user on the card ending in 7392. There was a charge for a cake a few minutes ago, and I'd like to verify the order details."

The front desk pulled up the reservation almost immediately.

"Hello, sir. Ms. Everhart booked a commemorative package for two. The cake says 'Happy Ten-Year Anniversary.' Everything looks normal with the charge."

Camille and I had known each other for five years and been married for three.

The ten-year anniversary clearly had nothing to do with me.

"Okay. My wife may have been planning a surprise." My voice remained perfectly even. "Would you mind sending me a photo of the room's setup? I'd like to take a look."

The employee agreed cheerfully without a second thought.

…

Two minutes later, I received a photo on my phone.

There were no faces in the picture. Just a dining table covered in rose petals and a man's hand resting against a wineglass. Around his wrist was a silver aurora bracelet.

I stared at it for a long time.

I had created the design myself a month ago and commissioned a jeweler to make it.

It was a matching set, two bracelets in all, meant to be my anniversary gift to Camille on our third wedding anniversary.

The men's bracelet was now on someone else's wrist.

Meanwhile, the other bracelet should have been sitting safely inside the drawer of Camille's home office.

I walked into the study and pulled open the drawer, only to find the jewelry box sitting there, wide open and empty.

Camille had taken the surprise I'd prepared for her and used it to celebrate her ten-year anniversary with someone else.