I pushed the door open and walked in. Holly looked surprised to see me, her brows knitting in a frown.

"What are you doing here? Are you tracking me?" she asked in an accusatory tone.

I held up my phone, showing her the message she had sent.

Charles draped an arm around her shoulders, his grin looked innocent. "Ms. Jones, my stomach's acting up. I just wanted a laugh, so I had Jim bring some yogurt. You're not mad, are you?"

Holly's tense expression melted.

Oddly enough, I felt nothing. No inner turmoil, no fit of rage like before, just a calm nod to show I got the message.

Holly, who rarely felt the need to justify herself, said, "Jim, Charles was just…"

I handed her the yogurt, cutting her off mid-sentence.

Holly had had a few drinks, so driving was out of the question.

She made sure Charles was okay, then came back with me.

The taxi waited across the street.

As I stepped off the curb, Holly's hand shot out and yanked me back, just as a car zoomed by, missing me by inches.

If not for her quick thinking, I would have been hurt.

"Watch for cars when you're walking, will you?" Holly chided, her voice laced with urgency, her grip on my hand firm.

For a moment, I was lost in memories of how she used to hold my hand every time we crossed the street. It felt like a lifetime ago, and strangely unfamiliar then.

However, once we reached the other side, I slipped my hand away, unnoticed.

In the morning, I was packing up for work when Holly said, "I'll drive you."

After the late night we had, thanks to her, I was cutting it close for work. There was no time for the subway. I accepted her offer without a fuss.

I opened the car door to a sea of trendy accessories that screamed youth. The seat cushion, plush and supportive, was there for Charles' bad back. Even the dashboard boasted a model sports car; it was Charles' favorite.

A sticker with playful lettering of the words 'Ms. Jones's Little Assistant Reserved Seat' on the dashboard, boldly claiming its territory.

It was almost comical that Holly, known for her no-nonsense, take-charge attitude, would tolerate such a whimsical item in her car.

Discomfort briefly shadowed Holly's face as she explained, "Don't sweat it too much. There's nothing going on between us."

'They went to take couple photos and yet she said there was nothing going on between them?' I mused silently.

I kept my thoughts to myself, but the day after we started divorce proceedings, Holly flaunted their lovey-dovey photos on social media. There was even a caption. [Capturing every sexy moment of you.]

Whether it was a jab at me for wanting the divorce or something else, her affections had clearly shifted to places unseen by me.

Shaking off the memory, I tactfully chose the back seat, saying, "I'll sit back here."

"Skipped breakfast?"

To break the awkward silence, Holly reached over and offered me a bottle of milk.

Glancing up, I noticed a snack box brimming with cookies, candied fruits, and jellies, a stark contrast to Holly's usual ban on eating in her car due to her obsession with cleanliness.

I recalled a time when I was pale and weak from low blood sugar in her car, desperate for a sip of milk, which she had flatly denied.

However, Charles seemed to have her full permission to indulge.

The difference between being loved and unloved was painfully clear.

I politely declined the milk, turning my gaze to the blur of cars outside.

Soon enough, we reached the office, and I hurried to my desk.

In theory, with the divorce looming, I should be drafting my resignation. However, with two projects still on my plate, I felt obliged to see them through before walking away.

Morning and noon flew by in a blur; I was swamped, and a lousy night's sleep left me feeling less than sharp.

I was about to brew myself a much-needed coffee when the delivery guy showed up with a surprise: a huge box filled with lattes and cupcakes.

The office erupted with cheers.

"They say the head honcho is springing for afternoon tea. Talk about generosity!"

"You're out of the loop. It's only for Charles: he's been hitting the gym hard, trying to slim down. The head honcho felt for him, so she got the coffee as a treat. We all just got lucky!"

"Wait, didn't the head honcho tie the knot with Jim?"

"Shh, Jim's right over there!"

"Jim, don't mind us, we're just messing around. Don't take it seriously."

One glance at the sea of lattes and chocolate cakes, and I knew the score.

Holly felt bad for Charles' grueling diet, so she treated the whole office to a snack.

I would have loved to savor that sweet gesture of their love.

Too bad chocolate is off-limits for me.

Holly used to court me with the same zeal, constantly fretting I would skip meals because of work. She would find excuses to keep me around, to share a bite.

When I was sick but stuck at my desk, she would sneak meds into a cupcake, delivering it herself, all to catch a glimpse of my awkward grimace.

Our office romance once brought that place to life.

However, now, that thrill and thoughtfulness have shifted to someone else.

I could not dwell on it; my workload was a beast.

This project had me burning the midnight oil for nights on end, and today was no different. I had to push through.

Evening crept in, the sky dimming to dusk, and before I knew it, Holly was by my side.

"Jim, still grinding away?"

Her sudden appearance caught me off guard. I wondered what brought her there.

"Ms. Jones, is there something you need?"

She seemed thrown off by my distant tone, but she got straight to the point. "Let's hand this project to Charles."

Despite bracing myself, the words still stung.

"Charles has been the target of too many rumors lately. If he takes on this project, no one will question his competence."

Holly knew the lengths I had gone to secure that project, the sleepless nights, the endless talking. Yet then, she was casually passing it off to him. Her every word was a shield for Charles, protecting him from the whispers, with no regard for the injustice I felt.

I let out a dry laugh, dripping with irony. "Fine, give it to him. He can come by tomorrow to discuss the details with me."

I had given my all to this company, and it was time to move on. I should let Charles handle the projects that followed. I was ready for some peace.

Holly was taken aback by my swift acceptance. She fished out a man's watch from her pocket and offered it to me. "You've always wanted a watch from this brand. I should've been more thoughtful. Guys dig this stuff, and I'll make it up to you, bit by bit."

It was the brand I had my eye on, but her timing was off. The watch had lost its allure. I was never one for the old bait-and-switch.

After I gave her the nod, Holly's voice softened, and she surprised me by wrapping her arms around my waist. "Let's not butt heads anymore," she said gently. "I messed up last time. Why don't we scrap the divorce papers in the next few days? And you've been dying to check out Dalewood, right? I'll make it up to you. We'll go there together, okay?"

I kept silent, and Holly mistook my quiet for agreement, chattering away about plans and promises.

On my way home, scrolling through friends' updates on social media, I stumbled upon Charles' latest brag: a watch, identical in brand and packaging to the one Holly gave me, but his was leagues more luxurious and refined.

That was when it hit me: the watch from Holly was nothing more than a promotional throwaway. Ridiculous. She knew I liked it, but she could not be bothered to pick out something special.

Tomorrow would mark the end of our divorce's cooling-off period. After that, Holly and I would truly be nothing to each other.

I was out on the balcony, tending to my little plant, when the ring slipped off my middle finger and tumbled over the edge.

Without thinking, I leaned out to grab it.

"What are you doing?!" Holly yanked me back to safety. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?!"

There was a flash of genuine concern in her eyes, as if we were still the inseparable couple we once were.

"The ring fell," I explained.

She had made that ring for me, crafted it with her own hands, and I loved it. That was why I had worn it all this time, and why I had risked so much to catch it.

Holly let out a sigh. "It's just a ring. I'll get you a new one. You shouldn't risk yourself like that."

Just a ring.

I glanced at her hand; her middle finger was empty. She had removed her ring long ago.

"Tomorrow's our anniversary," she said softly. "I'll come by, and we'll spend the day together."

When was the last time we celebrated our anniversary in full?

I nodded, keeping my thoughts to myself.

We could mark the end of our marriage with a period, and a flawless one at that.

On the day of our anniversary, I found myself alone at the restaurant we had booked ages ago.

I waited and waited, my stomach protesting its emptiness, but she never showed.

Frustrated, I whipped out my phone to text Holly. If she did not want to celebrate with me, she could have been upfront about it instead of leaving me hanging.

After a few unanswered calls, I checked my phone again and saw a post in the work group chat.

An anonymous account had written it.

[Charles is wooing the married supervisor, using his looks to get ahead. It's disgusting how he's selling himself!]

Then came the so-called evidence that the project I was leading now had Charles's name all over it.

Though the post targeted Charles, it was clearly a jab at me.

Not long after, Holly stormed in, livid.

"I thought you gave up the project willingly. You're vile, pretending to agree while you backstab and smear Charles!"

"Jim, you've stooped so low!"

Charles, right behind her, eyes reddened, apparently feeling betrayed.

"I don't need the project. I don't care what they say, but Jim, I thought we were friends. Why would you do this to me?!"

"It wasn't me," I said, keeping my cool.

"I've agreed to hand it over, and I'm not one to play dirty," I said.

"Who else would go after Charles but you?

"Jim, you're such a fake!

"And to think Charles even picked out this restaurant for us. You don't deserve it!"

In a fit of rage, her face flushed and her ears turned red as she hurled a plate to the ground in front of me. The shattered pieces flew across the floor.

Years of living together had not convinced her to trust me.

I fished the divorce papers out of my pocket.

"Well, the waiting period's over. Might as well sign this while we're at it."

I nonchalantly slid my resignation underneath.

With an icy laugh, she snatched up the pen and scribbled her name.

"As you wish!"

With those words, she grabbed Charles and stormed out.

I remained seated, watching her disappear into the distance.

There was no point in celebrating this anniversary then.

I stared at the untouched food on the table and listlessly ate, bite after bite.

Once done, I grabbed my suitcase from the corner.

I caught a cab to the airport.

On my way, I texted Holly.

[Left the keys on the living room table. We're through. No more contact.]

I sent the message, shut off my phone, and boarded the flight to Hudson City.