For five years, my birthday, Valentine's Day, our anniversary—he was always working late.
Always brushing me off with a simple "Sorry, I forgot. Work's been crazy."
I told myself it was fine. He was building his career, proving that my investment in him wasn't a mistake. That he was doing it all to give me a better future.
Then last month, I found a receipt from a luxury jeweler tucked inside his car.
The recipient was Claudia Swanson.
Seven figures.
That was when I understood. It wasn't that he didn't know how to be romantic.
His romance just never belonged to me.
He wasn't busy.
He simply never wanted to give his time to me.
At three in the morning, Evan finally came home.
He reeked of an unfamiliar women's perfume.
A long brown hair clung to his jacket. It wasn't mine.
He spotted me still sitting on the couch and froze for a second before his brow creased.
"It's late. Why aren't you asleep?"
I looked up at him, my voice so flat it could have been a dead line.
"The gala. Explain."
His hands paused mid-shrug as he was taking off his jacket.
He walked over and sat across from me, his tone casual, as if the answer were obvious.
"Claudia got dumped. She was crying, saying she wanted to kill herself. What was I supposed to do, ignore her? She's a young woman, all alone in Greyport. If something happened, that'd be on me."
"And so?"
I stared at him, my eyes sharp with contempt.
"So you ditched me. You ditched dozens of investors I personally brought to that gala, all to drive halfway across the city for a heartbroken secretary?"
"Bernice, do you have to be so aggressive about everything?"
Evan's frown deepened, irritation written across his face.
"It was one gala. You're telling me the great Ms. Pruitt can't hold down a room on her own? Why are you making such a big deal out of nothing?"
"You think this is nothing?"
I laughed.
"Evan, who was that gala for?"
"I begged countless people, humbled myself over and over, just to put you at the top of this industry. And you walked out in front of every single one of them. Whose reputation took the hit? Mine. Bernice Pruitt's."
"If that's how you want to see it, what am I supposed to say?"
Evan leaned back into the couch, the picture of indifference.
"I know you've done a lot for me. But that doesn't give you the right to control where I go and what I do. We're in a relationship, not a transaction. I didn't sell myself to you."
"I'm good to Claudia because she's my subordinate. She's my secretary. Looking out for her is just part of being a decent boss."
"Just admit it. Tonight wasn't about the gala. You're jealous. You can't stand seeing another woman anywhere near me."
I looked at that face of his and felt something inside me collapse. Five years of sacrifice, and the whole thing suddenly felt like one enormous joke.
I asked him.
"Then what about the project the R&D team spent six months on? Why did you put Claudia's name on it? She doesn't even understand basic market research. What could she possibly have contributed?"
Evan's expression shifted, but he recovered quickly.
"Claudia handled a ton of logistics and coordination for that project. Without her, you think things would've run that smoothly? You people are just biased against her because she doesn't have a fancy degree. You dismiss everything she does."
I could barely believe what I was hearing.
"She can't even write up meeting minutes without errors. What exactly is she coordinating?"
"Evan, you took six months of your entire team's blood, sweat, and tears and handed it to her as a stepping stone. How can you look those employees in the eye? The ones pulling all-nighters, every single night?"
"Enough!"
Evan slammed his palm on the coffee table and shot to his feet, towering over me.
"Bernice, whose company is this? I'm the CEO. I decide who gets credit, and it's none of your business."
"Don't forget," I said. "That company exists because I built it with my money."
