I froze, and bitterness rose in my throat.
I should have known long ago how cold he truly was, because whenever something, or someone, more convenient or more beneficial appeared, my feelings never mattered.
When I was twenty-three, in my second year living away from home, he promised to spend my birthday with me. I cooked and waited for him all night.
But when I finally called, I heard a girl crying beside him.
Yet, he didn’t apologize or explain. He only blamed me for caring too much about “just a birthday.”
Yvette’s mother had died giving birth to her. So, birthdays reminded her of that, making her sad.
So for the next five years, he never celebrated my birthday. He wouldn’t even let me celebrate it myself, either, not even on social media, because it might upset Yvette.
He always said it was all for appearances.
Yet when no one was watching, he still wasn’t willing to give me even the smallest bit of affection.
Now, seeing my supervisor subtly urging me with his eyes to let it go and not make trouble, I relented.
Fine. I would treat it like a farewell dinner.