The day before my flight to the head office, Jaxon came home carrying a raspberry cake.

"I picked this up specially for you in Chirona City," he said.

I shook my head. "I can't eat that."

A flicker of impatience crossed his face. "What now? Are you seriously upset again? I just went on one business trip with Lisa. Is that really such a big deal? You can't even—"

"I'm allergic to raspberries," I said.

He stopped.

There was a time when Jaxon tracked my cycle to the day. Now he could not remember a food allergy he had known about for years.

My eyes burned. My chest felt heavy, as if something pressed down on it.

He stared at me for a moment.

"What? Really?" A trace of guilt crossed his expression. "I'm sorry, Annabelle. I've just been so busy lately. It slipped my mind."

"It's fine," I said, keeping my voice even.

It was not the first time. I had long since stopped expecting anything different.

He looked at me, then turned and dropped the cake straight into the trash. "If you can't eat it, I won't either."

Then his expression shifted.

"Actually, Anna." He reached out and caught my arm. "I've got time today. What if we go to City Hall right now and get it done?"

I stood very still.

In the five years of our engagement, that was the first time Jaxon had ever brought it up.

Unfortunately for him, I had already made my decision. I had already packed. I had already signed the papers and bought the ticket.

Nonetheless, something in me pulled in opposite directions. Why now? Why today, of all days, did he have to say that?

Then his phone rang.

I glanced at the screen. It was Lisa.

He hung up and looked at me with the same apologetic expression I had come to know by heart.

"Lisa's water pipe just burst. I need to go over there right now. She's alone, and it's not safe for her to deal with a repairman by herself," he said.

He grabbed his jacket and walked out before I could say a word. I watched him until he disappeared, and a thin, humorless smile settled on my face.

"So he does understand that it's not safe for a woman alone at home to deal with a repairman. Interesting," I muttered.

After all, the last time our pipes broke and I called him, he told me I was being dramatic.

And just a minute ago, some part of me had wavered. I really was beyond help.

I went back to packing. When everything was sorted, zipped, and ready, my eyes settled on the framed photo on the living room wall.

I stood there for a few seconds, then took it down.

In the photo, Jaxon looked at me as if I were the only thing in the room, his gaze warm and indulgent.

He used to look at me that way. Then he stopped, and that look began to belong to someone else.

We never took another photo together after that. But I had seen plenty of photos of him and Lisa on her social media—at dinner, at work, even at a concert. They were all things he had once promised to do with me. He had followed through on every single one. Just not with me.

I picked up a pair of scissors and cut the photo in half without hesitation. I kept my half and left his on the table.

Since I was leaving, I would not leave any trace of myself behind.

When I finished, I set the asset division agreement on the coffee table where he could not miss it. We had never made it legal on paper, but our finances had been intertwined for years. This was cleaner and more honest.

I picked up my luggage and walked out without looking back.

…

Before I boarded, I sent Jaxon one last message.

[Farewell.]

Then I took out my SIM card, slipped it into my pocket, and boarded the plane.