I stared at the diamond ring on Yvette's finger, remembering how Xavier had called Yvette by her nickname when he came home drunk last night. I watched them walk away, hand in hand, and felt like I had fallen into a bottomless pit. Was that really how he saw me? Like a villain and a murderer.
Our housekeeper walked by, rolling her eyes at me when she thought I wasn't looking. When she noticed the pizza box in my hand, she gasped dramatically. "Oh no, Mrs. Lowe, you're not planning to eat that, are you? That's been sitting out for days! We were about to throw it out.
"Didn't you have your fill at dinner? If you're still hungry, I can make something for you."
Her feigned concern made me frown. I turned her down, biting back the dull ache growing in my stomach. Without another word, I retreated to my room.
It felt like there was no place for me in this house. Even the housekeeper was treating me with sarcasm.
Pain gnawed at every corner of my body. I remembered hearing once that some people could die from a broken heart. Perhaps that was where I was headed.
With trembling hands, I pried open the bottle of pills that could stop my body from shaking. I popped one into my mouth and washed it down with a glass of cold water. Slowly, my stiff body began to relax a little.
Knowing my time was running out, I went to the most renowned funeral shop in town and picked out a balloon urn for myself.
When the urn, carried by the helium balloon, reached an altitude of 3300 to 5000 feet, the humidity sensor would detect the moisture in the clouds. It would trigger the biodegradable cap to open, and my ashes would fall with the rain, returning to the earth.
On my way home, my phone reminded me of the flight tickets for our vacation to Cinnabar Island in June. I had booked them a year ago when Xavier and I made a promise. If I managed to become pregnant, we'd go on a family trip to Cinnabar Island. We'd even take wedding photos there—the ones we never got around to.
After all these years of marriage, I had never seen myself in a wedding dress. It was one of my last wishes before I died—to have my wedding photos serve as my memorial picture, leaving behind the most beautiful version of myself.
…
Xavier stumbled through the door at 4:00 am, reeking of alcohol. He collapsed onto the couch, with a faint lipstick stain on his neck.
However, my heart was already dead. I didn't care who he was with or what he had done.
He curled up on the couch like a child, and for a fleeting moment, I almost remembered why I had fallen for him in the first place. I thought back to when we first met. I was drawn to his innocent, pure, yet irresistibly seductive eyes, and we fell in love.
He had known how I took my coffee—with only one spoonful of sugar, no more, or else I'd wrinkle my nose. He remembered that I couldn't eat the skin of apples, so he'd always peel them before cutting the fruit into heart-shaped slices for me.
He knew I loved horror movies but would always end up hiding behind his arms, yet I still wouldn't turn them off.
We had been so in love once. We had leaned on each other, needed each other. Now, there was nothing left but ruins—pain and love etched into my very bones.
"Honey, can we go to Cinnabar Island next week to take our wedding photos?" I asked softly, lifting his chin to get a better look at his eyes. "After that, I'll go through with the IVF procedure. I already promised your mother. The doctor said the success rate is really high this time around."
He stared at me for a few seconds and smiled. "Right, I guess I still owe you that. Let's go together, then." At that moment, his voice was so gentle that it almost felt like we had traveled back in time to the early days of our relationship. I thought this was the last bit of warmth our shared love could offer me.
Just then, his phone rang. The video call connected, and Yvette appeared on the screen. She was lounging against her pillows in a black lace nightgown, a coy smile curling on her lips. "What island?" she asked, tilting her head. "I love islands!"
I instantly froze. Xavier didn't even try to hide it. If anything, he held the phone higher like he was afraid I would not see Yvette. "Alright. I'll take you there, my sweet Yvie."
"You're taking her with us? Xavier, are you seriously not even trying to hide your affair in front of me anymore?" I demanded.
"Olivia, would you stop overreacting already?" Xavier looked up at me, frustration clouding his eyes. It was as if I was the one causing all the problems.
"Yvie is like a sister to me. Can you stop twisting our relationship with your filthy thoughts? Honestly, I've stopped expecting a child from you," he said coldly.
"We can go to Cinnabar Island and I'll fulfill your request. Book five tickets for me, you, my parents, and Yvette. Yvie loves the ocean and has mentioned it a lot of times. After everything she's done for me, taking her along is the least I can do."
"Xav… I'm dying. This might be our last trip together. Why can't it just be the two of us?" I asked, looking into his eyes.
He straightened up and responded as if he was negotiating an insignificant business deal, "I'm letting you fulfil your wish to wear a wedding dress. I hope it'll bring some closure to the love we've shared all these years.
"My career is taking off now, and my future's bright. I need to have a lot of children. When we get back from the island, we should reassess our relationship." His tone was calm, his pace slow, yet each word felt like a sharp dagger sinking into my heart.
He reached out and brushed a hand through my dry, brittle hair before slowly resting on my face. His palm was warm, just like it had always been when he used to lull me to sleep. "I'll be sure to spend time with you then."
"Alright," I whispered back. "It'll be a trip to remember."
I smiled at him, but his eyes that once held so much love for me were now filled with nothing but indifference. Tears slid down my cheeks, falling onto his palm. He frowned, as if he had touched something filthy, and wiped his hand roughly against his shirt.
"Yvette will help us with the photos," he said without even looking at me. "She'll take our wedding photos. The photos she took before were much better than what you, the so-called 'professional photographer,' could do."
With that, he turned over, rested his head on the pillow, and drifted off to sleep with a peaceful sigh.
The man who once treated me like I was the world and told me there were stars in my eyes now looked at me like I was nothing but trash cluttering his life. I swallowed the lump in my throat and quietly slipped out onto the balcony.
The cool night breeze brushed against my skin as I looked up at the moon, low and sinking on the horizon. I laughed, but my laughter gradually crumbled into sobs I could no longer hold back.
I bit down hard on my bottom lip, tears rolling down one after another, landing in my hands and into this absurd, broken thing I had called love for ten wasted years.
I finally realized that the most devastating part about all this wasn't that he had fallen for someone else, but that he had made hurting and degrading me just another part of his everyday life.
Right then, I noticed a crimson "7" on the glass window before me, indicating the last bit of time I had left. "Xavier, could you please spend this last anniversary with me?"
