Chapter 6: The Dinner That Never Happened

The table was set just the way she imagined it.

Candles lit—scented with soft vanilla and lavender. Her best set of plates out. The wine breathing on the counter. Pasta simmering in the pot with homemade sauce she’d spent the afternoon perfecting. The soft hum of music played in the background—Ed Sheeran, because Gabriel liked acoustic. Said it calmed him after long days.

Celina checked the time for the third time in a minute.

7:46 p.m.

He was supposed to be home at seven.

She reached for her phone, opening their text thread. No new message. Her lips tugged into a nervous smile as she typed:

“Everything okay? I made something special for your birthday!”

She added a smiley face. Then deleted it.

Too eager? She added it back. Then pressed send.

She checked the kitchen, again. Stirred the sauce.

The phone buzzed.

Gabriel: “Hey love. Something urgent came up at work. I’m so sorry. Can we do a raincheck tomorrow? I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”

Celina’s fingers curled around the phone.

Her chest tightened, but she forced herself to type back:

“Of course. Hope everything’s okay.”

Three dots appeared. Then disappeared.

She waited. Nothing.

A long, slow breath slipped past her lips as she turned off the stove. The silence that followed was deafening. She blinked fast, trying not to let the burn behind her eyes turn into something more.

It was fine.

It was just one dinner.

She sat down at the table alone.

The candles flickered.

She smiled at no one.

---

“…and that concludes our evening’s donations. Thank you, everyone, for your generosity and support.”

The ballroom burst into applause.

Andrea clapped along, her hand gently resting on Gabriel’s arm. She could feel his tension ease as he turned to her, offering a grateful smile. He hated being in the spotlight, but he looked good in it—charismatic, polished. Perfect.

“You did well,” she murmured, her lips brushing his cheek. “The board’s going to love you for this.”

He chuckled, low and warm. “Only because you coached me.”

“I’ll take the credit later,” she teased.

He turned to her more fully, eyes shining. “This was exactly what I needed tonight. Thank you for being here.”

Andrea felt a pang in her chest—quick and unexpected. For a second, her mind flickered to the lipstick. The purse. The lie she was still holding close.

But here he was. With her.

And part of her still wanted to believe that meant something.

“Let’s grab some champagne,” Gabriel said, guiding her toward the bar.

Andrea nodded, but as they walked, she couldn’t stop the thought creeping in.

Where were you before this, Gabriel?

And who were you texting a while ago while I am busy talking to some business partners?

---

Celina didn't cry.

She didn’t even eat.

Instead, she packed the dinner into containers, stacked them neatly in the fridge, and wiped the counter clean. The wine, untouched. The candles melted down to stubs.

She changed into her oversized shirt, pulled her hair into a bun, and sat on the edge of the bed.

Her eyes wandered around their apartment—the newness of it all. The boxes still half-opened. The wall she planned to decorate with their wedding photos. The gifts still wrapped in fancy bows from relatives she barely knew.

She reached for her phone again. Still no message from Gabriel. Not even a goodnight text.

She typed. Then deleted. Then typed again:

“I hope you’re not too stressed. Don’t forget to eat.”

No reply.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard for a few more seconds before she locked the phone and tossed it on the bed.

Maybe he was really just busy.

Maybe there really was an emergency.

She had to believe that.

Because if she didn’t…

---

“…he’s charming, I’ll give him that,” one of the women whispered to Andrea near the bar, eyes glancing toward Gabriel who was speaking with a few sponsors, yet undeniable keep checking his phone.

“Handsome. Articulate. And married to a goddess like you? It’s almost unfair.”

Andrea smiled politely. “That’s kind of you to say.”

“Oh come on,” the woman laughed. “You two are couple goals. You make the rest of us look bad.”

Andrea’s smile strained just slightly as she raised her champagne glass. “Let’s toast to that, then.”

But as she turned away, the words clawed at her.

Couple goals.

Goddess.

She couldn’t help but wonder how many versions of Gabriel existed out there—how many versions of herself he curated for different eyes.

She walked back to him, slid her hand into his without hesitation.

“Shall we go home?” she asked sweetly.

Gabriel leaned down, whispering near her ear. “You read my mind.”

---

Sleep wouldn’t come.

Celina lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the blanket pulled up to her chin. Her side of the bed untouched. Cold.

She thought of the birthday card tucked in her drawer. The tiny gift she’d spent hours choosing—sentimental, handwritten, cheesy. The kind she thought Gabriel would love.

Maybe tomorrow, she thought. Maybe tomorrow will be different.

She closed her eyes.

Her heart whispered back:

Then why does it feel like you’re already losing him?

But then...

Morning came with no message.

No missed calls.

No explanations.

Just silence.

Celina stared at herself in the mirror. Her reflection looked tired. Her smile no longer reached her eyes.

And something inside her cracked, just a little.

Today wasn’t just the morning after a missed dinner.

It was the first day she woke up and questioned if it's really all because of his work that he's losing time with her.

The dual realities are growing more unstable—Celina’s suspicions begin to simmer, while Andrea starts threading the truth together.