She walked in, her appearance immaculate. Her blouse was perfectly buttoned, her hair tidy, her cheeks glowing faintly from the cold air outside. It was as if nothing had happened.
She held up the cake, her smile widening. "Look what I brought! Your favorite chocolate cake. And guess what else?"
Alexa set the cake down and approached me, her steps light and confident. She slipped her arms around me from behind, pressing her cheek to mine. Her scent, once comforting, now felt suffocating.
"Ta-da!" She held out a sky-blue jewelry box, her eyes sparkling as she opened it to reveal an intricate watch. "Harry, do you remember this?"
I nodded faintly. How could I forget?
Three months ago, Alexa had designed this custom watch herself. She'd called it Starcatcher, a symbol of our "unique love." She had laughed as she described how it represented her devotion, saying she'd pluck stars from the heavens if that's what it took to make me happy.
Now, as I stared at the watch, all I could feel was a bitter sense of irony.
Alexa stepped closer, her delicate fingers brushing against my wrist. "Let me put it on you," she said softly, her voice full of tenderness.
I pulled my hand away, dodging her touch. "There's no rush. Since it's a birthday gift, let's save it for the day."
For a moment, her hand hung in the air, her expression faltering slightly before she quickly masked it with another smile. "Alright," she said cheerfully, as if my reaction hadn't bothered her at all.
But I noticed how her gaze lingered on me, searching for something beneath my calm facade.
She didn't find it.
The clatter of pots and pans echoed from the kitchen, mingling with the faint hum of a distant song Alexa often hummed while cooking. She moved with her usual efficiency, every motion precise, graceful. Yet, as I leaned against the doorway, observing her in silence, my eyes couldn't help but linger on the faint, scattered marks just below the collar of her neatly buttoned blouse.
Those marks weren't mine.
I turned on my heel, retreating down the hall. My chest felt heavy, as though an invisible weight pressed against my ribs. In the quiet sanctuary of our bedroom, I grabbed my phone and stared at the screen. The photo of us on the wallpaper—a candid moment from our honeymoon—felt like a cruel mockery now.