Romance, Going Solo

On the last day of the year, my music player app pushed out my 2025 listening report.

My keyword was 'Resonance.'

I had not actually spent much time listening to music that year. My account had mostly been used by my boyfriend, Jeremy Steward.

A small line of text appeared underneath.

[At 4:00 A.M. on December 1st, you were still sharing the same song with someone. So this is what love looks like, staying awake through the night.]

My breath caught.

December 1st was my birthday. However, that night, I had gone to bed early.

Jeremy had rushed off right after cutting the cake, saying he needed to go back to the office for overtime.

Almost as if possessed, I tapped my trembling hands on the unfamiliar profile that showed up as my most frequent interaction.

Their keyword for the year was 'Exclusively Yours.'

My heart skipped. I opened the details.

[This year, you and this user listened to songs together late at night 688 times. Every time is a private whisper between souls.]

Right then, a message from Jeremy popped up on my phone.

[Babe, I have to work late again tonight. Don't wait up for me. Sleep early, okay?]

At the same moment, that unfamiliar account posted a new update.

A photo of two hands intertwined inside a car, fingers tightly laced together.

[I love working late with him the most. We'll listen to music together for a lifetime.]

I did not reply to Jeremy Steward's message. I just stared at that photo.

I knew the car interior all too well. After all, it was the promotional gift I had given him.

Hanging from the glove compartment on the passenger side was the safety charm I had woven by hand.

I tapped into that unfamiliar account again and opened her playlist.

The pinned playlist was titled 'A Love That Came Late.'

Its description read, 'You are the joy that came too late and the one I'll love for the rest of my life.'

Every song in it was Jeremy's favorite: post-rock and obscure indie folk.

Every single track showed records of them listening together from 2:00 A.M. to 5:00 A.M.

Those were all the nights he said he was 'working late' and did not come home.

A wave of bitterness rose in my chest.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed.

A message popped up.

[Happy New Year, Sabrina! No matter how far I go, you'll always be my closest family.]

It was Everly Chance, the girl I had sponsored for four years, the one I personally brought out of the mountains, the one I helped get a job at Jeremy's company.

My fingers hovered over the reply box, but before I could type anything, a notification lit up.

As if possessed, I tapped it.

The video was only five seconds long.

Jeremy, who was supposedly pulling an all-nighter at work, was standing by the sea.

The night wind whipped around him. The sparkler in his hand crackled, lighting up the gentle curve of his face.

From off-camera, Everly's voice sounded sweet and cloying.

"Make a wish, Jeremy."

Jeremy smiled and blew out the sparks, his gaze so soft it almost melted the lens.

"My wish is this: may every year be like today, with you, Everly, in my life."

In an instant, my hands and feet turned ice cold.

Every year? With her in his life?

Then, what was I? A joke he got to relive every year?

My stiff gaze drifted back to that photo of their hands intertwined in the car.

I had not noticed it before, but at that moment, I saw it clearly.

On that slender, pale wrist was a simple silver bracelet.

Though it was nothing expensive, it looked painfully familiar.

It was the birthday gift I had carefully chosen for Everly just last month.

Then I looked at the account's ID.

[J&E]

'Jeremy and Everly, huh?'

So, that was it.

The girl I had treated like my own little sister…had stolen the man I loved with all my heart.

A quiet laugh escaped me. I kept laughing until tears hit the screen.

Just six months ago, Jeremy had frowned and complained to me, saying, "That Everly is so clumsy. Can you stop pushing her onto me to mentor?"

I had even comforted him back then.

"She's had it rough growing up. Just be patient with her."

So this was how he showed his 'patience.'

It seemed he had really gone all out.

I looked at the pot of broth on the table, the one I had spent four hours simmering specifically for him. A thick, greasy film had already formed on the surface.

It felt just like my situation with him at that moment. It looked warm and tender on the surface, but underneath, it was nothing but something sickening.

I stood up, picked up the pot, and dumped the liquid straight into the trash.