How Could I Bear You Sad

The crowd cheered as the candles were extinguished, the bright lights flashing back on. I stood at the very back, watching the celebration with a detached gaze. My eyes lingered on Matteo’s smile, directed so warmly at the woman beside him.

“Ms. Argento, please, have some cake!” Sandra’s voice pierced through the noise as she made her way towards me, holding a small butterfly-shaped cake in her hands. “Thank you for helping me with the project and for coming to my birthday banquet.”

I glanced down, noticing the golden mango pieces beneath the creamy white frosting. Forcing a polite smile, I declined, “Thank you, but I’m on a diet.”

Sandra hesitated, clearly taken aback by my refusal. An awkward silence settled between us, broken only when Matteo called out from across the room. “Secretary March, didn’t you just have hot pot with your friends a few days ago?”

His words were casual, but the pointed tone was impossible to miss. He was by my side in an instant, his gaze challenging. I met his eyes, unfazed. “So?”

Without missing a beat, he grasped Sandra’s wrist, guiding the cake back towards me. “It’s just a cake, no need to be so calculating, Secretary March.”

Of all things, Matteo knew mango was my allergen. I remembered the first time I visited the Mendez Family home—his grandmother had offered me a mango pastry and I ended up in the hospital that night. Matteo had stayed by my bedside, looking distraught. “Why are you so stubborn? You don’t need to compromise yourself just to please my family.”

I’d smiled weakly through the IV drip. “It’s fine. I wanted to make a good first impression.”

The memory flashed through my mind, but I pushed it aside. In a level tone, I replied, “I’m allergic to mango. Since Mr. Mendez likes it, he can enjoy my share.”

Matteo’s expression darkened for a brief moment, something unreadable flickering in his eyes before it disappeared. If I didn’t know better, I might have thought it was regret—or even heartache.

“That’s a shame!” Sandra chirped, her voice light and airy. “This cake was special-ordered by Mr. Mendez. He made sure it was perfect for today, even booked it a week in advance!”

She turned to Matteo, blinking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “But no need to force it, right?”

Her voice was sweet and endearing and he looked back at her, amusement playing on his features. “It’s your birthday—you decide.”

A wave of disgust washed over me at their public display. It was exhausting. I grabbed my coat from the sofa. “Enjoy your celebration. I need to leave.”

Without looking back, I walked out, desperate to escape the stifling atmosphere. As I stepped outside, my phone buzzed. It was a call from my real estate agent—my new apartment was ready. I could move in tomorrow.

The half-hour drive from the clubhouse to Centrale felt like a blur of memories—four years of life with Matteo replaying in my mind. Once I got home, I opened a drawer and took out our wedding photos, packing them neatly into cardboard boxes. I contacted a service that specialized in handling old wedding memorabilia and scheduled a pickup.

Turning to my computer, I found the hidden folder filled with digital photos. Each image was a snapshot of happier times. My fingers trembled as I selected all the files, hovering over the delete button. I hesitated for just a second, then clicked. Sweetness and pain—both real—were erased with a keystroke.

The next morning, Lucy arrived in her SUV. She took one look at the two modest boxes of my belongings and scoffed. “Four years together and this is all you’ve got?”

I hefted one box into the trunk. “Anything not bought by me, I don’t want.”

I left behind every cheongsam, every designer dress, every glittering piece of jewelry Matteo had given me. I didn’t need any reminders of him. Not anymore.