Chapter 1

My boyfriend, Ethan, was a hardcore pragmatist.

He despised anything remotely romantic, labeling it as useless.

For our fifth anniversary, I asked him to take me to the new Michelin-starred restaurant in town.

He shot the idea down immediately, annoyance written all over his face.

"A single dinner there costs half my monthly paycheck. Can we act like adults and stop falling for shallow consumerism?"

"We'll talk about it later. I'm swamped right now."

I waited one day. Then two.

The dinner never happened, and I stopped bringing it up.

Until that weekend, when he came home late from overtime.

Tucked inside an inner pocket of his briefcase, I found two VIP concert tickets.

I thought he was just being stubborn—that he had bought them in secret to surprise me.

Just as I was about to ask, I saw two posts on Instagram from his new intern, Hailey.

The first post read: Worst weekend ever. The concert sold out before I could get tickets.

The second post, posted an hour later: Huge thanks to my boss for the exclusive VIP tickets! My initials are even written on the envelope. Best boss ever.

I picked up the envelope and flipped it over.

Sure enough, the letters "HL" were penned neatly on the back in ink.

He didn't hate romance. I just wasn't worth his time or money.

Calmly, I slipped the tickets back into the pocket.

Then, I picked up my phone and canceled the earnest money deposit on the house we were supposed to buy together.

The moment Ethan pushed open the front door, he didn't even bother kicking off his shoes before marching straight over to me.

"Did you see an envelope in the inner pocket of my briefcase?"

His brows were knit tightly together, his eyes flashing with irritation.

He didn't spare a single glance for the anniversary dinner I had spent all afternoon cooking.

I sat at the dining table, wiping down the counter with a kitchen towel, my movements steady.

"I saw it."

My voice was flat.

"Where is it?"

His tone tightened instantly as he closed the distance between us.

"I didn't touch it. It's right where you left it. Check again."

He spun on his heel and rushed back to the entryway.

The zipper was pulled open with a sharp tug as his hand scrambled through the inner pocket.

His movements were frantic, almost clumsy.

Only when his fingers brushed against the envelope containing the tickets did his tense shoulders visibly relax.

He pulled it out carefully and shoved it straight into his suit jacket.

He didn't care why I had looked through his briefcase. He only cared whether those two tickets were safe.

Watching his back, I stayed silent.

I had already seen Hailey's post hours ago.

"Are you going to the concert?"

I looked at him, asking a question I already knew the answer to.

Ethan turned around, his expression settling back into its usual coolness.

"A client gave them to me. I'm just dropping by."

He walked over to the water dispenser and poured himself a glass.

"Calling in favors late at night just to get VIP tickets counts as 'dropping by'?"

I tossed the kitchen towel into the sink.

His hand paused, the glass making a sharp clink against the counter.

"Hailey did great on the last project pitch. She really wanted to go, and as her boss, I figured this would be a good reward."

He looked at me, a flicker of impatience crossing his face.

"Do you really have to make an issue out of this?"

I stared back at him quietly.

"There's something else," Ethan said, loosening his tie as if assigning a task to an employee. "We need to push back signing the purchase contract on the house this Friday."

I looked up into his familiar face.

"Why?"

"That's the day Hailey's team is having their welcome party out of state. As their director, I need to drive them there."

He said it with total conviction, as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world.

"Besides, we can buy a house anytime. But Hailey and the new hires only get one welcome party."

A cold chuckle escaped my lips.

Over the past five years, how many plans had we scrapped because of his casual "we'll do it later"?

The New Year's Eve movie—he complained the theater was too far and bailed, leaving me waiting alone in the lobby for two hours.

My promotion celebration—he said he had to entertain clients, leaving me to sit in front of a table full of food, watching it go from piping hot to ice-cold.

I had tolerated it over and over, telling myself that once we bought a house and got married, everything would change.

Yet here he was, saving all his patience and romance for someone else.

Was he truly a pragmatist? Or was he only a pragmatist when it came to me?

"Okay," I said softly.

Ethan frowned slightly, clearly caught off guard by how easily I gave in.

"I'm glad you understand," he said, his tone softening with relief. "Once the party is over, I'll carve out some time to go with you to sign the papers."

His "later" was a check that was never meant to be cashed.

I didn't reply. I stood up, walked into the bedroom, and gently clicked the door shut behind me.

I pulled out my phone and tapped open a chat thread that had been dormant for three years.

It was Claire, the owner of a boutique bakery in a coastal town down south.

[Hi Claire, is the head baker position I turned down back then still open for applications?]

The message went through, and almost immediately, the typing indicator popped up.

I stared at the screen, my heart entirely still.

It didn't matter anymore.

Because I had already pulled the plug on that house.