Chapter 3

By the time I got to the office, workers were already repairing the window. My coworkers were still shaken.

"God, thank goodness we left early yesterday. Can you imagine if we'd still been here?"

One of them spotted me and gave a little wave. "Ryan, your girlfriend came to pick you up yesterday, right?"

I smiled. "Nope. She was busy driving a coworker home."

The office went quiet.

Someone asked carefully, "So you took a cab home by yourself?"

"I spent the night in the break room."

Everyone seemed to hold their breath. After a long moment, a coworker patted my shoulder, comforting. "Ryan, you're so strong."

I didn't see why I shouldn't just say it plainly. After all, I wasn't the one who'd done anything wrong.

Near the end of the workday, a message came in from Melanie.

[I'm outside your building.]

I paused. It had been nearly a year since she'd last come to pick me up after work. Even the times she promised to, she'd usually end up bailing because of something to do with Ted.

I went downstairs and, sure enough, found her car waiting. I walked straight up, and just as my hand reached for the passenger door handle, the window rolled down, revealing Ted's round, boyish face.

"Hey there, Ryan."

From the driver's seat, Melanie explained, "Ted said there's a new fondue place near your office that's supposed to be really good. I already made a reservation. Want to come?"

I looked at her, my voice light and even. "Melanie, I can't eat rich, heavy food."

She blinked, and a flicker of embarrassment crossed her face. In the end, the two of them left without me.

She hadn't come to pick me up at all. She'd just happened to remember I existed. She'd even forgotten I couldn't eat rich, heavy food.

There was a time she used to carefully pick every last piece of cheese off my plate, piece by piece, just because she'd forgotten to tell the waiter to go light on the cheese for me.

Something sour rose in my chest, but reason smoothed it over quickly enough.

I was ready to bring up breaking up with her when she suddenly got mysterious, saying there was a big event on Saturday and telling me to get there early.

I paused. Saturday was our seventh anniversary. So she still remembered, after all.

I didn't know what she had planned, but I decided I'd end things that day regardless.

Melanie told me to arrive at ten. Traffic held me up, though, and I didn't get there until ten thirty.

Walking toward the private room, old memories surfaced. For our anniversaries, she used to rack her brain for surprises.

She once arranged candles to spell out the date we first met. She secretly learned guitar just to play and sing a song I'd once mentioned in passing. She put together a photo album of every memory we'd shared.

But starting three years ago, our anniversary had been cut short every single year. Three years ago, Ted got sick, and she said there'd be plenty more anniversaries, but Ted lying alone in a hospital bed was just too pitiful.

Two years ago, Ted cut his hand chopping vegetables, and she dropped the half-finished cake she was making to rush to his side. Last year, Ted got drunk at a bar, and she said she was only taking him home, then didn't come back all night.

This time, I didn't expect much. I only wanted to make it through one whole meal and finally say what I needed to say.

The door opened.

Bang!

Confetti burst into the air and rained down over my face. The room was full of people, none of whose faces I recognized.

Everyone froze when they saw it was me.

"Huh, that's not Ted."

"Didn't you say his footsteps sounded just like Ted's?"

"Quick, clean it up! He's got to be next!"

I stood there, dazed, until Melanie pulled me aside and shoved a confetti popper into my hand.

"Didn't I tell you to get here early? Come on, turn this way, Ted's about to walk in."

It took me a long moment to find my voice. It was almost too absurd not to laugh.

I looked at her and asked, "What exactly is going on here?"