And as for her, I felt no desire to hold on anymore.
Everything she was suddenly willing to give meant nothing to me now.
...
In the following days, Arianne changed overnight, almost as if she had become a different person entirely. She actually did transfer Hudson to another department.
Her new assistant, Harper, was a woman.
Whenever she couldn't come home at night, she sent photos and her location, just as I used to, though I never replied.
Harper, on the other hand, was talkative and cheerful. When she showed up to pick up one of Arianne’s dresses, she greeted me with a bright smile.
“Sir, tomorrow is your sixth anniversary,” she said with a bright, knowing smile. “The chairman planned a huge surprise for you, so please make sure you keep your schedule open.”
Six years together.
Despite everything, there was a time when we truly created beautiful memories.
I figured we should at least have a clean ending. Something real.
So I opened the couple-tracking app we hadn’t used in years and followed the location pin to the city's biggest hotel.
The entire ballroom was drowned in red and pink roses.
A giant LED screen looped a montage of the past six years of my life with Arianne—photos, clips, moments I had nearly forgotten.
But the person at the center of the room wasn’t me.
Onstage, Arianne was down on one knee, holding a ring box open toward a sharply dressed Hudson.
Of course, she was the one proposing.
It fit her perfectly—loud, dramatic, center stage, needing the spotlight on her terms.
“Will you marry me? No matter sickness or health, poverty or wealth, I will never leave your side.” Her voice rang through the speakers, confident, emotional, rehearsed.
For six years, I’d imagined this moment in my own way.
My version was quieter, private—just two people choosing each other.
This… wasn’t that.
But it was exactly who she was. And maybe it had always been this way.
I just hadn’t wanted to see it, and now, it was happening before my eyes.
The first time she ever proposed, she did so to the man who showed up late and stole her attention.
Hudson Myers.
I placed a hand on my chest, waiting for the ache I thought would crush me.
Nothing came. No sorrow. No ache.
In the sixth year of our relationship, I finally understood with absolute clarity:
I no longer loved her.
As I watched the two of them embrace and kiss, my heart remained perfectly still.