The Rose Garden's Three Year Lie

He had never tried to prove his love for me. I had even picked out our wedding rings myself.

No matter how hard I tried, he was unwilling to give me even a sliver of his heart. A marriage this one-sided was always going to burn out.

Our relationship was just like the wedding photo on the wall—it should have come down years ago.

I went to an apartment my parents had left me. That night, I slept more soundly than I had in years.

At dawn, my phone jolted me from my sleep.

I picked it up and saw several missed calls from Cassian.

The moment I answered, his sharp, impatient voice cut through the line: "What the hell are you up to now? The apartment is empty. Didn't we agree to celebrate our anniversary? I even had a gift ready. Where are you?"

The sharp edge of his voice only fueled my resentment. I hung up and tossed the phone aside.

I was used to it—when I was working overtime on an urgent restoration, on my birthday, on every day I needed him most, a single phone call from Palmer would make him vanish.

Then he would return the next day with some expensive gift, questioning me indignantly as if I were the one being unreasonable.

If I gave him the cold shoulder, he would soften his stance just enough to win me back.

It was always the same dance. The smallest crumb of kindness from him, and I’d swallow my pride, content to be the shadow revolving around his sun.

But this time, I was truly tired.

...

That evening, after work, I saw him waiting for me at the entrance of the auction house.

He had changed into a dark gray suit, his tall, imposing figure particularly striking against the twilight sky. A few female colleagues walking by couldn't help but steal glances at him, whispering among themselves.

In the past, I would have rushed to his side, my stomach coiling with jealousy whenever another woman’s gaze lingered on him a second too long.

He had a natural magnetism that drew people in. I was always afraid someone would steal him away. Looking back, my fear wasn't wrong; I was just guarding against the wrong person.

Now, looking at him, I felt nothing.

I walked straight ahead, intending to go home, but his voice cut through the air.

"Tiffany. Nico's hosting a dinner tonight. You're with me."

To my own surprise, I agreed. Maybe I was just hungrier than I thought.