Why Panic When It's Too Late?

There were a few comments under Dylan Zimmer's latest post from Nadine Sullivan's friends—people I followed too.

"Damn, Nadine's really something, huh? She just casually transfers 10,000 dollars like it's nothing."

"I just saw Zayn's post. Nadine only sent him 100 dollars. It looks like Dylan means way more to her than Zayn ever did."

For a few seconds, I just stared blankly at the screen.

Earlier this morning, Nadine messaged me saying she was swamped with work and couldn't make it home to celebrate my birthday today.

Then, she transferred me 100 dollars with a message that read, "I love you."

And just like that, seven years together was made to feel like the punchline of some sick joke. In Nadine's eyes, I was only worth 100 dollars, while Dylan was worth 10,000 dollars.

Later, Dylan posted another video. This time, it was taken at a karaoke bar. Nadine was in the frame, looking into the camera with an affectionate gaze as she sang a love song.

The people around her were cheering her on.

"Nadine, you're so in love with Dylan!"

"When are you going to dump Zayn and announce your relationship with Dylan?"

The video was cut off there. I sat frozen with my phone in hand, and my heart turned heavy with something I couldn't even name. If nothing else, it was a dull, suffocating ache.

I glanced at the dining table. The dinner I spent two hours cooking was still sitting there, cold and untouched. The same could be said for the cake that I'd made from scratch.

I thought I'd spend my birthday together with Nadine. But once again, she used "work" as an excuse to ditch me for another man.

She had done this so many times over the past seven years. I was already used to it by now.

I placed my phone on the table and opened the cake box. Then, I silently took a photo of myself with it.

I posted the picture to my feed soon after. It was a little tradition of mine to document my birthday every year. This year would have been no different. I wasn't going to let anyone ruin that.

After that, I cut myself a slice. The sweet cream melted on my tongue, but all I could taste was bitterness.

Suddenly, it hit me. My relationship with Nadine was just like this cake.

Soft, sweet, and beautiful on the outside, but rotten at the core. Once the frosting was gone, all that remained was the rancid stench.

I had just scraped all the food I'd made into the trash when Nadine's call came through.

Her voice was sharp with irritation. "What's with the photo you posted with the cake? Are you trying to let your family know that I didn't spend your birthday with you this year?"

For the past few years, she had always been in the photo with me because no matter how busy she was, she always made it back. But this year, she didn't even try.

"I wasn't," I said softly, maintaining a calm and flat tone.

"Oh, cut the act. I know you're pissed that I didn't come back," she snapped.

"I told you that I had work to do, okay? It came up at the last minute. And I even transferred you money, didn't I? Can't you just let it go?

"Whatever. I'm still busy, so I'm hanging up."

With that, the line went dead.

I stared at the dark screen for a moment before letting out a bitter laugh. I was such an idiot for holding onto the hope that she'd come back to me.