A World Cup Without You

When I got home, I dragged two cardboard boxes out of the storage room and started clearing every piece of Argentina merchandise from the house.

I pulled the throw pillows with their blue and white stripes off the couch, took the signed jersey down from the wall, and cleared the custom figurines from the display case. Every single item was something I had once picked out for Reid with a full and happy heart, and now, they were all just relics of an absurd marriage.

I placed them into the boxes one by one, without tears and without even a trace of longing.

At 11:00 that night, the lock turned. Reid walked in smelling of alcohol and perfume. It was a sweet, cloying citrus scent, the same one I had caught outside the bar that afternoon. It was Nola's favorite.

"Why'd you pull all this stuff out?" He spotted the boxes in the living room and paused.

"Spring cleaning." I did not look up and kept packing a mug into the box.

"Spring cleaning doesn't have to happen in the middle of the night." He came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder like he was soothing a moody pet.

"Still upset about that post from yesterday? I already told you, I was just messing around with Nola. Don't be so petty."

He let go of me and pulled a small box from his pocket, holding it out in front of me. "Here. I got this for you. See if you like it."

I opened the box. Inside was a necklace studded with small diamonds, flashy in a way that did not suit anything I would normally wear. However, the most glaring detail was the fine print at the bottom of the box—'Ronaldo Fan Club Limited Edition'.

I stared at those words, and a sharp pain hit my chest.

Ten minutes earlier, I had seen Nola's latest social media update. She had posted a photo of several necklaces laid out together, with the caption: [Men have zero taste, I swear. This gaudy one is absolutely not happening. He can give it to whoever he wants.]

The necklace she had rejected was now sitting quietly in the palm of my hand.

"So? Pretty, right?" Reid had not noticed a single thing wrong and was still going on, pleased with himself. "I spent a long time picking it out. I thought it'd really suit you."

He was giving me someone else's leftovers and calling it a gift, and he expected me to be grateful.

"It's nice." I closed the lid and tossed the box onto the coffee table. "Thanks."

When Reid saw that I had accepted it, he seemed to relax. In his mind, as long as I took the gift, the matter was settled and he could move on. He slipped off his jacket and started heading for the bathroom to shower.

"Reid." I stopped him.

"Hm? What is it?" He turned around, looking a little tired.

"The game starts the night after tomorrow." I looked him in the eye, my voice soft. "Can you stay home and watch it with me?"

This was the last test I would ever give him. It was also my final goodbye to eight years of my life.

Something flickered behind Reid's eyes, and he looked away.

"I can't do the night after tomorrow." He let out a sigh, feigning helplessness. "Something came up at work. There's an important client dinner I can't get out of. A bunch of big accounts are going to be there."

He put on an easy smile. "Be good and watch it here by yourself. I'll come home and keep you company as soon as I'm done."

He did not so much as blink when he lied.

At the very moment those words left his mouth, the phone he had set on the coffee table lit up with a notification from Nola. The message content was hidden, but her name was displayed clearly across the screen.

I knew there was no client dinner. He was going to spend that night with his soulmate, and they would watch his new team's big moment together.

"Okay." I nodded and did not call him out. "Work comes first. Go."

Reid smiled, visibly relieved, and walked over to ruffle my hair. "My wife's always so understanding. Once things calm down, I'll take you on a trip."

He grabbed his phone and hurried out to the balcony to reply to the message.

I watched the way he could not get to that screen fast enough and said under my breath, "Go. You won't have to keep me company ever again."