The following morning, when I got up, Wesley had already made breakfast. It was his way of making amends. Normally, I should have shown gratitude and eaten everything he prepared.

“Get ready and come have breakfast,” Wesley said, smiling as if last night's unpleasantness had never happened.

I walked over to the table and saw the breakfast he had laid out. It was unusual for him to make breakfast since I usually rise an hour earlier to prepare it.

I reached for the neatly packaged box he had, but he pushed my hand away.

“This isn't for you. You're having this,” he said, handing me a plate with just a piece of toast and a fried egg.

“But I want granola,” I said.

Wesley's expression grew stern as he looked at me. “You've always had toast in the morning. What's gotten into you?”

He never made breakfast. Toast and eggs were just the quickest option. “You got up early to make granola. Isn't that for me?”

I looked him straight in the eye, keeping my expression neutral.

“Tiana had quite a bit to drink at the company party last night. She needs something warm this morning to ease her stomach,” he replied.

I stood up, leaving the untouched toast and egg on the table. Wesley's face showed a flicker of frustration before he burst out.

“Annalise, eat it if you want! There's a limit to how much drama you can cause!” Wesley snapped, grabbing his packed bag and slamming the door behind him.

I tossed the toast and egg into the trash. After tidying up, I contacted a friend in real estate. I told him I wanted to sell the house quickly, with no specific requirements. This house was initially bought with the intention of being Wesley's and my marital home. Its location was perfect, both in terms of the neighborhood and the proximity to work. Now that I've decided to move on from this relationship, there's no need to keep it.

Understanding my urgency, my friend promised to find a buyer within a week.

Once the call ended, I finally prepared to head to work. As soon as I arrived at the office, I noticed a group gathered in the break area.

"Wesley is really thoughtful. He even made granola from scratch," someone commented.

“We're all so envious. When will we ever find a boyfriend as wonderful and considerate as Wesley?” another added.

Wesley just gave a modest smile, making no attempt to clarify.

Tiana sipped her granola, looking at Wesley with admiration. “Wesley is one-of-a-kind. I'm lucky to have his affection,” she said, catching my eye from across the room. As I turned to leave, Tiana called out to me.

“Annalise, did you have breakfast? Wesley brought too much, and I can't finish it all,” she offered.

Everyone figured she was just being polite since I was her direct supervisor, yet it was hard to miss the smug satisfaction in her eyes.

“He made it especially for you. You shouldn't waste his thoughtfulness; eat it all,” I replied, not bothering to decipher Wesley’s expression or his intentions, and headed towards my office.

Once I arrived, the crowd slowly dispersed. As some colleagues passed by my door, I overheard snippets of their conversation about the prize won last night.

An hour later, Wesley Castro walked into my office, catching me off guard with his unexpected visit. I couldn't hide my surprise.

"Is there something you need?" I asked, keeping my tone strictly professional in line with our agreed boundaries. My cool demeanor seemed to irk him.

"Can't I come by just because I want to see you?"

"Wesley, have you forgotten? You were the one who insisted we keep personal matters out of work."

He paused, visibly startled by my reminder. I expected him to react negatively, but instead, he handed me two concert tickets.

"They're for your favorite rock band. How about we grab some dinner after work and then catch the show?"

I couldn't deny my favorite band, and tickets were like gold dust. I nodded quickly, eager to use the outing to talk about our breakup.

"Let's take my car after work," he suggested. "We can head to the office together in the morning."

Despite working at the same company, we'd never commuted together. Wesley was determined to keep our relationship under wraps, always insisting on driving separately, even if we left at the same time. I had never argued against it.

After leaving the tickets on my desk, Wesley walked out. When work was over, I went straight to the parking lot, scanning for his car but not spotting it. I pulled out my phone to call him.

It took him a while to pick up. "Annalise, go ahead and get started. I'll be late; something came up."

As I was about to hang up, I heard Liliana's playful voice in the background.

"Wesley, am I going to kick the bucket?"

"What on earth are you saying? The doctor said it's just a cold—fever and dizziness, nothing serious."

Wesley's tenderness towards Liliana was something I never experienced. Not wanting to hear more, I disconnected the call.

By the end of the concert, Wesley still hadn't shown up. Whenever Liliana was involved, his priorities always shifted towards her. Still, the concert was even more thrilling without him.

Afterwards, I found a street vendor and indulged in fast food Wesley always banned at home, deeming it unhealthy and lacking nutrition. He was supposedly concerned about my health, though he'd recently shared some with Liliana. During our four years together, I had given up everything Wesley disliked, sacrificing countless things I loved just to keep him happy.

As soon as I stepped through the front door, there was Liliana lying on the couch, her head resting on Wesley's lap.

Wesley hurried to explain. "Liliana caught a cold. I couldn't leave her alone in her small apartment, so I brought her here to care for her."

I glanced at Liliana, unable to see any signs of illness.

"Wesley, I should probably head back. Ms. Stewart, don't get any wrong ideas," Liliana's tone was fake innocent, but her eyes betrayed a smug satisfaction.

"If you're sick, you should take the master bedroom. It'll be easier for him to take care of you," I said, catching them both off guard.

Before they could respond, I retreated to the guest room and shut the door. My phone buzzed with a text. It was from a real estate friend, letting me know that my house had been sold.