Waited Till Dawn, Left As His Substitute

On our sixth anniversary, I put on my sexy lingerie, prepared seven whole boxes of condoms, and planned to give Marcus a surprise.

But even by dawn, he never came home.

Until someone anonymously sent me a photo and a text message.

In the photo, Marcus had his arms around a disheveled woman.

He was cupping her face, kissing her passionately.

The text had only one line: "His first love is back. Time for you, the substitute, to fuck off."

Six years. A whole six years.

I thought he'd settled down for me, but in the end, I was just a similar face, a counterfeit he could summon at will.