After dinner, he insisted on doing the dishes himself. I lounged on the couch, sneaking glances at Kylian while he worked in the kitchen. He kept checking his phone, a smile playing on his lips throughout. It was almost absurd how six years of relationship seemed overshadowed by the allure of something fresh.

Once he finished cleaning up, he approached me with a box of spiced honey cake like it was a precious offering. "Honey, I got your favorite spiced honey cake," he said, looking at me with the eager eyes of a child seeking approval. I've always had a sweet tooth, believing dessert could soothe the soul. But now, no amount of sweetness could dissolve the bitterness inside me.

I stared at the cake box, my mind adrift. Kylian noticed and gently asked, "Honey, what's on your mind?"

Snapped back to reality, I reached out for the cake. Just then, his phone rang on the table. Before I could see who was calling, he swiftly grabbed it, as if worried I might see the caller ID.

My hand hovered in mid-air and then fell, sending the box to the floor with a thud. The phone continued to ring persistently. In his rush to end the call, Kylian accidentally hit the answer button.

"Kylian," a soft female voice came through, sounding tearful.

I looked up at him, catching a brief flicker of panic in his eyes. He quickly lowered the phone's volume to its minimum and his expression instantly shifted to calm.

He pointed at the phone and mouthed, "It's a colleague," before hastily retreating to the balcony with the phone.

I watched his silhouette fade into the distance and chuckled to myself, opting to focus on the crushed honey cake on the floor rather than chase after him. The ruined cake seemed like a metaphor for what lay ahead.

About ten minutes later, Kylian returned after finishing his call, only to see me tossing the cake into the trash. He gave me an apologetic look.

"Sorry, sweetheart. Something urgent cropped up, and you missed out on the cake," he said.

I replied breezily, "It's no big deal; it was dirty anyway. Better to toss it."

He lingered there, hesitating, his gaze betraying his inner turmoil. Seeing this, I inquired, "What's up? Is it something pressing?"

He apologized again, "There’s a problem with a project at work. A colleague is really upset, and I need to deal with it right away."

Then he added, "I’ll bring you another cake later."

His voice carried its usual soothing tone, his demeanor calm. I bantered with him, "Do the folks at work call you by your nickname?"

He tensed slightly, his smile wavered. I waved off the comment playfully, "Just kidding, go on. Don't let me stop you from handling important stuff."

He visibly relaxed as he grabbed his coat and hurried out the door.

Once he left, I flagged down a taxi to follow his car. The driver, a friendly guy named Marcos, was more than happy to trail the car ahead. With a curious glance, he asked, "Is that your guy up there?"

I hesitated before responding, "Boyfriend."

Recognizing my mood, he nodded sagely and reassured me, "No worries, we won’t lose him."

The car finally pulled up in front of a bakery.

I recognized the name immediately. It was the bakery where Kylian had been buying spiced honey cakes for the past two years.

As he approached the entrance, a figure dashed out to greet him. She flew into his arms like a butterfly. The girl looked just as she did in the photos—young, vibrant, and full of life. He reached out and gently ruffled her hair, his touch tender and caring.

Her slender arms encircled his neck, clearly trying to captivate him. Kylian gave her nose a playful tap, his face radiating warmth. As I watched, she rose on tiptoe to give him an eager kiss.

After six years together, it would be a lie to say it didn’t hurt. My nose stung, my eyes turned red, and I couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

Marcos, the taxi driver, quickly handed me a tissue, trying to offer some awkward comfort.

“Miss, don’t be upset. My wife left me for someone else because she thought I didn't earn enough. I got through it on dinner rolls and water for a month. Look at me now, I’m doing okay.”

His attempt to console me was of little comfort at this moment. But I appreciated his kindness. I thanked him and got out of the car.