At this point, I was used to it. Disappointment barely registered anymore.
In fact, when I arrived at the office that morning, I walked straight to HR and handed in my resignation.
Afterward, I booked a plane ticket for an overseas flight scheduled for the following week.
I had always been impulsive and decisive, except when it came to love.
There, I hesitated, second-guessed, and never managed to cleanly let go.
One week later would be our sixth anniversary.
A fitting end, I thought.
Neat and complete.
On the third night, Arianne staggered home drunk. She wobbled in her heels in the entryway for a long moment, clearly waiting for me to come take her bag and bring her slippers, just as I always did.
But I didn't move and just sat on the sofa, typing out travel plans on my laptop.
She looked over at me, shaking her head with a small, amused scoff as she kicked off her heels.
“Still sulking? You’ve been ignoring my messages all day.”
She waved a hand like she was brushing the whole thing aside and stepped farther into the room.