Before I could even process anything, a notification popped up on my phone—a new post from Wesley's social media.
It was a photo.
The background was a sky ablaze with fireworks.
He was standing behind Abigail, arms wrapped around her waist.
The caption read: [For the one I love the most!]
In that instant, everything became clear.
It wasn't that Abigail disliked fireworks—I simply wasn't the man she wanted fireworks from.
She always said loud noises scared her, that fireworks weren’t her thing. But looking at her leaning into Wesley’s embrace, eyes shining with delight... I finally understood.
I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t even disappointed. I was simply... tired.
My voice came out hoarse as I said, “Come back early.”
“Mhm, I’m heading back now. I’ll be home soon,” Abigail responded sweetly.
For the first time tonight, she actually heard what I said.
But it didn’t matter anymore.
After hanging up, I stared at the candle flames flickering gently on the table.
The dishes cooled and reheated multiple times. Two candles burned almost to their bases. Only then did I finally hear the door open.
"Hubby, I'm home!"
Abigail walked in with a bright smile, carrying a large bouquet of roses.
Behind her stood Wesley.
"Harvey, I'm not intruding on your romantic night with Abigail, am I?" He raised a brow at me, blatantly provocative.
"We've been married for so long. What romantic night?" Abigail playfully hit Wesley's arm, pretending to scold him.
The sight made something inside my chest twist painfully.
Six years of marriage—Abigail had never acted shy and coquettish with me like that.
Yet she did so effortlessly with Wesley. And they'd only known each other for one month.
At that moment, all I felt was how pathetic and pitiful I truly was.
Pitiful and laughable.
Seeing I remained silent, Abigail started explaining while changing shoes at the entrance.
"Wesley heard today is our sixth wedding anniversary and insisted on celebrating with us. I couldn't refuse, so I brought him along."
Then she held up the bouquet proudly. "These flowers are from Wesley. Aren't they beautiful?"
"Mm. Very beautiful," I replied.
It was laughable—a wedding anniversary meant for two, now turned into a celebration with an outsider.
Ridiculous.
But it didn't matter anymore.
After tonight, Abigail and I would no longer be connected in any way.
"Hubby, are you... angry?" She approached me carefully. Without waiting for my reply, she glanced at Wesley and hesitated.
"Should I... ask Wesley to leave?"
I smiled. "No need. Three people celebrating is fine—more festive, right?"
"I told you he wouldn't be mad," Wesley said with a grin.
"Abigail, you just care too much about him."
The mockery in his voice was unmistakable.
Care?
If she truly cared, would Abigail bring another man home—especially on our anniversary?
Wesley wanted to provoke me, but unfortunately for him, it wouldn't work.
Because I truly no longer cared. Abigail didn't look at him. She stared only at me, her expression serious.
"Hubby... you're really not angry?"
I didn't understand what she was hesitating about.
She already brought him here—what difference would my anger make?
"I'm really not angry," I said again. "Sit down. The food is getting cold."
Only then did Abigail finally relax and lead Wesley to the table.
A candlelight dinner meant for two... now had a third wheel.
Wesley dragged a chair over and sat boldly beside Abigail, then used his cutlery to place food into her bowl.
"Abigail, your favorite—boiled fish and braised ribs. Eat more."
Abigail froze, startled. She quickly glanced at me, and when she saw I didn't react, she glared sharply at Wesley.
"I can get my own food. Just eat yours," Abigail said coldly.
Wesley instantly put on a wounded expression.
"Abigail, I just want you to eat more. It's only a small gesture. Harvey won't be mad, right?"
"Yes," I replied calmly. "I'm not angry at all."
But Abigail wasn't appeased. She set her cutlery down and stared at me.
"Why aren't you angry?"
I froze for a moment, nearly laughing at the absurdity.
When she was getting close to Wesley, I was angry—she said I was being unreasonable.
Now I wasn't angry—she still wasn't happy.
"I'm not angry because..." I paused and glanced at my phone. It was already past midnight—today was officially over.
I put my phone away and looked at Abigail with utter calm.
"I'm not angry... because I no longer care."
"Does that answer satisfy you?"
