I hung up without a word and called a car to the hospital alone.
That photo of warm oatmeal was still sitting on his feed.
Last month I ran a fever of a hundred and two.
He'd dropped a takeout box by the door and left me one line: "Eat it while it's hot."
Then he turned around and went out to keep Bianca company, wandering the shops to cheer her up.
That night the two of them stayed out late, and he even posted a photo of them at the night market.
So it turned out his gentleness, his patience, his care had never once belonged to me.
Then HR called.
She and I were close, and I could hear how hard this was for her to say.
"Katherine, I'll be straight with you. The director slot in marketing was meant to be yours."
"Director Maxwell brought it up in the meeting, said it should go to Bianca instead. His reasoning was that it's rough for someone just starting out. Just so you know."
The drip ticked louder in my ear, each drop landing straight on my chest.
Three years of endless all-nighters. Three million-dollar core projects. Number one in the department, without fail.
The promotion I'd broken myself to reach.
And with one light little "she's under more pressure," he'd hand it away.
Work or life, in his heart I would always come after Bianca.
I looked down and opened the Northgate offer I'd sat on for so long.
My fingertip hovered over the button to accept.
The last bit of me that couldn't let go shattered right there in the infusion hall.
The next day was our third anniversary, Blake's and mine, so after I was discharged I went out of my way to stop by the boutique.
I came out with a big bag of fairy lights and balloons printed with a photo of the two of us.
And a bottle of the red wine he'd been going on about for ages.
Buried underneath was one last wish I kept lying to myself about.
Maybe, once he saw how wretched I'd looked on that drip alone, he'd finally understand what mattered.
Back at the place we shared, I forced my weak body to keep moving and set up the living room, piece by piece.
By the time I finished it was evening, and I sat quietly on the couch to wait for him.
It wasn't until eight that night that Blake's short message finally popped up:
*Bianca's fighting with her landlord and she's falling apart. I have to take her out for a bit. I'll be back late. Don't wait up.*
Not one word about how my gastritis was healing. Not a mention of what day it was.
At eleven, I heard the door open.
Blake walked in carrying the night's chill on him, half a strawberry cake in his hand.
He glanced around at all the decorations and frowned, his voice thick with impatience.
"A perfectly nice place, and you've turned it into this. It doesn't suit the apartment at all."
He didn't see the disappointment banked in my eyes at all. He just pushed the half cake into my hands.
"Bianca loves strawberry cake. Here's the rest."
But the doctor had told me again and again that for now I could only have bland, liquid food.
I looked down at that half-eaten cake, and it suddenly struck me as absurd.
I didn't take the cake. I turned around and quietly cleared away every decoration in the room, not saying a word the whole time.
Blake just assumed I was in a mood, and went off to wash up and sleep.
That weekend, both sets of parents had already made plans.
Under the excuse of our third anniversary, they'd meet to talk about our engagement.
The night before, I kept catching Blake's arm to tell him how much this dinner mattered.
I wanted to use it, with the elders all there, to properly talk to him about being passed over for the promotion.
To ask for what was fair.
He was in the middle of replying to Bianca, and nodded me off.
"Got it. Don't worry, I'll be with you the whole time today. I won't leave halfway through."
The dinner was booked in a private room.
My mother had a big box of the cured bacon and dried fruit snacks Blake liked ready well in advance, saying she'd send it home with him after the meal.
Through dinner the elders took turns teasing the two of us.
I managed a strained smile and played along, quietly waiting for my chance to talk to Blake about work.
