The Tender Unlasting

The wife of a renowned designer thought I was not good enough to be seen with her.

So, when the award ceremony came, she brought along her young, handsome secretary, someone who suited her image much better.

I did not argue or make a scene. I ignored the secretary's quiet provocations and stayed perfectly calm.

My wife, taken aback by how 'sensible' I had become, must have thought I had finally given up on her.

For the first time, she did not sneer or mock me.

Instead, she spoke gently for once, and told me to stay home and wait for her. She even promised a 'big surprise' for my birthday.

I lowered my eyes and nodded, hiding the heaviness inside.

She did not know that today, I was walking away for good.

By the time I got home, the night had wrapped the world in its dark embrace.

That anonymous text on my phone was still there, untouched, as if it were waiting for me. I had not brought myself to delete it.

[Mr. Jones, are you curious about Ms. Henderson's secrets?]

Eight years of marriage, and the thought of Macie Henderson cheating had never crossed my mind.

There was a fashion magazine on the coffee table with Macie's smiling face gracing the cover.

In the interview, they asked her who she was most grateful for.

"My husband, of course. We've been together since we were kids, and now, our eighth anniversary is just around the corner.

"Without his support, I wouldn't be where I am today. He's not just my partner. He's the one who found me."

I caught sight of her face on that cover and felt a jolt of something.

Her words had gone viral, painting the picture of a designer's fairy-tale romance come to life.

People even dug up an old photo of us from eight years ago, huddled under a cramped umbrella, selling our hand-painted T-shirts, all smiles.

We were those childhood friends turned sweethearts. I passed up studying abroad to stay and build a life with her.

During tougher days, we would stretch a dollar until it screamed, and when hunger hit, instant noodles were our feast.

We would dream big in our tiny rental, the future bright before us.

Then, we had made it, but somewhere along the way, Macie had drifted.

She walked in late at night, her eyes wide at the sight of me on the couch.

"Raymond, you're still up?"

I just watched her silently.

Panic flickered across her face, then she forced a smile and pulled a small, elegant jewelry box from her pocket.

I opened the box to find a necklace tailor-made just for me, its pendant glinting with a gentle glow. It was a masterpiece, weaving in the fashion design elements she was so good at, both unique and stunning.

"One of a kind, just like our love! Haha! What do you think? Do you love it?"

She playfully changed her pitch, trying to coax a smile out of me.

Eight years together, and I could read her like a book. She only splurged on such heartfelt gifts when she felt guilty about something.

I accepted the necklace with a nonchalant air and set it aside on the nightstand, claiming fatigue, and did not give it another glance.

The next morning, I woke up with a dull ache in my shoulders. Starting a business together had taken its toll on my health, leaving me with a lingering pain that I never quite shook off.

In those early days of struggling, without money for professional treatments, Macie had taken it upon herself to learn massage techniques to ease my discomfort.

She had kept up with it ever since.

She entered the room, massage oil in hand, and noticed me awake. "Why not sleep a little longer? Is your shoulder acting up again?"

She settled in behind me and began working her magic on my tense muscles.

I tilted my head and teased, "Ms. Henderson, with your endless to-do list, should you really be giving me a massage?"

Her laughter was light as she parroted my formal address. "Ms. Henderson will always find time for your massage, no matter what."

However, as her hands worked over my shoulders, a whirlwind of emotions churned inside me.