Lucas’ questioning voice lingered in my mind, but I silenced it with a swift, detached response before ending the call. As the car pulled up to my apartment complex, I stepped out, bracing myself for what lay ahead.
Before I reached the elevator, my phone buzzed incessantly. Opening the notifications, I found myself staring at Lucas’ work group chat. The unread message count had soared past 99+, and at the top of the feed was a post from Celine—a photo of Lucas crouched, sleeves rolled up, fixing electrical wiring and plumbing in her apartment.
“Who else has a boss this thoughtful?” she wrote. “I’d pledge my life to this family—uh, company. Can I sign a lifetime contract?”
The comments below were a flood of admiration and envy:
“Never seen the boss like this! Isn’t he the guy who can’t stand a mess? Guess not for her!”
“OMG, so dreamy without his suit! Ladies, hands off—I’m calling dibs on Mr. Haskins!”
“Dream on. This post came from the future Mrs. Haskins. Stick to work, girls!”
I stared at the chat with a strange, detached calm. Once upon a time, I’d been in Celine’s place—the one everyone envied. Back then, Lucas used to post candid shots of me in the office, working late or making coffee, captioning them with playful admiration. His affection had been obvious to everyone, and it had made the dull office routine almost charming. But all that had shifted the moment Celine entered our lives.
She wasn’t just an employee; she was a replacement. One by one, she absorbed every role I’d played in Lucas’ life—at work, at home, and in his heart. Now, even in his group chat, my name had become a taboo.
With a sigh, I deleted the group chat from my phone. If I was moving on, there was no need to carry the burden of their future.
Back in the apartment I’d called home for eight years, I started packing. My fingers grazed a photo album buried beneath a pile of forgotten keepsakes. Sitting on the edge of my bed, I opened it, flipping through page after page of memories Lucas and I had shared.
The album was a symbol of his grand promise. Eight years ago, he’d said he would give me 9,999 surprises—one for every moment until we stood at the altar. He had a custom album made to hold exactly that many photos. Now, there was only one blank page left.
A bitter laugh escaped my lips. All those promises, all that effort to win my trust and loyalty, and it had all ended in ashes before it had truly begun.
I carried the album downstairs to the quiet garden area behind the complex. The air was still as I lit a match, watching the small flame grow before setting it against the edge of the first page.
The fire spread quickly, devouring every memory in its path. Photos curled, blackened, and crumbled into ash. Each burned image felt like a weight lifting from my shoulders—a painful liberation.
“Anastasia!”
I turned at the sound of Lucas’ voice. He stood there, his face ashen, staring at the burning album. Without hesitation, he ran forward, trying to save it.
“Are you out of your mind?” he yelled, shoving me aside to reach for the flames. The heat was unbearable, but he tried anyway, his hands blistering as he stomped on the album, desperate to extinguish the fire.
“You’re burning our memories! What the hell are you doing?!”
I stood there, calm amidst his panic. “They aren’t our memories anymore,” I said quietly.
Lucas froze, his eyes darting between me and the smoldering remains of the album. “You think you can erase everything? Just like that?”
“Erase?” I tilted my head. “No, Lucas. You erased it the moment you let her into your life. This is just me catching up.”
His anger morphed into something darker—a mix of frustration and regret. “I didn’t replace you. Celine... she’s just—”
“Stop.” My voice was firm. “We both know what this is. You made your choice, Lucas. And now I’m making mine.”
The wind carried the last ashes of the album into the night, scattering them like the remnants of a life I no longer recognized. Lucas stood there, fists clenched, as though trying to hold onto something intangible.
But in our world, love wasn’t about promises or gestures. It was a currency of power, trust, and sacrifice.
And Lucas had spent it all.
That night, as I packed the last of my belongings, my phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number.
