Eleven o’clock at night.I sat at the head of the long, mahogany dining table, my hands folded neatly on my lap, staring at the flickering flames of the two candles I had lit hours ago. The wax had melted halfway down, forming little stalactites of white and gold, just like my patience—melting, dripping, and slowly hardening into something cold and fragile. On the table, the food I had prepared with so much love was now cold. The roasted chicken, which I had marinated for three hours with Gavin’s favorite herbs, was now dry and pale. The creamy mushroom soup had formed a thin, unappetizing skin on the surface. The salad was wilted, and the bottle of expensive red wine—one of the few things we had kept from happier times—stood there, unopened, gathering dust. Today was our fifth wedding anniversary. Five years. One thousand, eight hundred and twenty-five days. I remembered the day we got married as if it were yesterday. The sun was shining so brightly, and Gavin looked at me with
Last Updated : 2026-04-14 Read more