I packed them away, one by one, into the box.
Each time I lifted another piece, something inside me split open, slow and fine as a paper cut.
These were the things that had once made me feel loved.
Now every last one of them was a joke.
I sealed the box and was just about to drag it out to the trash when the lock clicked. Cicely was home.
She came in carrying a small gift box, her eyes soft.
"Gilbert."
"I passed a shop and saw these cufflinks. I thought you'd like them."
She walked over, reaching to hold me the way she always used to.
But as she leaned close, I caught a wave of cedar.
It was the scent of Connor's favorite cologne.
The next second, I saw the faint red mark on her collarbone.
My stomach turned, and I shoved her away.
Cicely froze. "Gilbert, what's wrong?"
I said nothing. I turned for the kitchen, wanting a glass of water to settle my stomach.
But when I opened the fridge, my whole body went rigid.
My jasmine tea was gone.
In its place sat a row of the coconut water and black coffee Connor liked to drink, and his favorite green grapes.
I held on to the fridge door, nearly drowning under the wave of bitterness crashing over me.
It wasn't just Cicely's heart.
Even this home had been claimed by him, inch by inch, long ago.
My phone buzzed right then.
I looked down. That couple's influencer account had posted an update.
Connor had shared a photo.
A table full of watches, cufflinks, and men's jewelry boxes, gleaming under the light, sharp enough to hurt.
The caption read: "My wife spoiled me tonight."
"Everything from the auction at the gala. She bought all of it for me."
"The organizers saw how generous she was and threw in a bunch of little gifts too."
I stared at the photo, my fingertips going cold inch by inch.
Then I tapped it open to full size.
In the corner sat an unremarkable cufflink box.
Identical to the one Cicely had just handed me.
So the cufflinks she'd supposedly passed a shop and thought I'd like.
They were nothing but a giveaway Connor didn't want.
Before I could even close the phone.
Another reply from Connor refreshed in the comments.
Connor posted a bashful emoji.
"Just bought a very special shirt."
"The one my wife kept pestering me to wear."
"Planning to reward her properly tonight."
I stared at those lines, and the nausea surged up my throat again.
Cicely came up behind me then.
She must have finally noticed something was off with me, because her voice dropped low.
"Gilbert, are you just too tired today?"
"Let me take you to bed to rest, okay?"
She reached out to steady me, her touch gentle, the way it had been a thousand times before.
If I hadn't seen that red mark, the coconut water in the fridge, the photo Connor posted.
I probably would have gone on believing, like always, that she cherished me dearly.
Before I could say a word, Cicely's phone lit up.
She glanced at it on instinct.
And out of the corner of my eye, I saw the photo too.
Connor wearing a scrap of black fabric, a stretch of shoulder and neck bare.
So suggestive it needed no words at all.
Cicely's hand stilled for an instant. Then she kissed me, tenderly.
"Gilbert, something urgent came up at the company."
"I need to step out for a bit."
I reached out suddenly and caught her by the wrist.
My voice came out so soft it hardly sounded like my own.
"Cicely, don't go."
"Stay with me tonight, okay?"
She looked at me, and a flicker of hesitation crossed her eyes.
For that one second, absurdly, a small hope rose in me.
But soon enough, the phone buzzed again.
