Done Waiting For A Love That Never Comes

In my five-year marriage to Julian Thorne, he stood me up 47 times for his "sister," Chloe Fischer.

This time, after he ditched me again for Chloe, I found two first-class tickets to Napa Valley in his study.

"I was going to surprise you for our anniversary. Since you've already seen them, let's just meet at the airport," he said, his voice detached.

Foolishly hopeful, I packed my bags and rushed to JFK Airport. I waited from afternoon until late at night. A blizzard hit, flights were canceled, but Julian never showed up.

Then, I saw Chloe's Instagram Story. "Tonight's charity gala was a last-minute thing, but so sweet of him to rush over and support me!"

In the past, I would have been heartbroken, demanding an explanation. But this time, as I watched him tenderly drape his coat over Chloe, something inside me finally snapped. I was done.

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1

The airport was bone-chilling on the night of the blizzard, the wind howling outside the vast windows.

Chloe's Instagram Story extinguished the last embers of hope in me. I gripped my phone, fighting the urge to hurl it against the wall.

This was the 47th time Julian had stood me up for her.

An uncontrollable tremor wracked my body as the last, ridiculous shred of hope I’d clung to finally shattered.

Just a week ago, he’d publicly walked out on me at an important industry dinner, leaving me to face a room full of prying eyes alone—all because Chloe had gotten locked out of her apartment.

Since the dinner was on Long Island, my best friend from college, Sloane, had to drive all the way across the city just to pick me up.

I gave Julian the cold shoulder for days after that, right up until I found those two tickets to Napa Valley in his study.

When I discovered them, he had said flatly, "I was going to surprise you for our anniversary. Since you've already seen them, let's just meet at the airport."

I knew he was just trying to buy my forgiveness. Every time he broke a promise to me for Chloe, he’d use an expensive gift to smooth things over. And like a fool, I always fell for it, so easily swayed and quick to forgive.

But this time, all I felt was a bone-deep exhaustion.

Outside, the blizzard raged, the bitter cold making my teeth chatter. The terminal was nearly empty. After adding a ridiculously large tip on the ride-sharing app, I finally managed to get a car at two in the morning.

…

When I returned to our Manhattan apartment and switched on the lights, I was startled to find Julian sitting silently in the darkness of the living room.

He crossed his arms, his tone hostile as he demanded, "Where the hell have you been? What are you doing out this late?"