I'll Never Love You Again

I sat at the table, watching the food grow cold, much like my heart.

Today was my birthday. It was also Leslie Buck's birthday—Katherine White's childhood sweetheart. I unlocked my phone and opened Leslie's social media page. As expected, a new post awaited me.

"Grateful to have you by my side for every birthday. Let's keep our promise to celebrate every one of them together in the future!"

The photo showed two hands forming a heart in front of a cake. One of them was Katherine's. I could tell from the bracelet she wore. It was the one I had given her.

I gave the post a like, then set my phone aside. Without hesitation, I dumped the dishes Katherine liked into the trash and went out to a restaurant to order the food I liked, celebrating my birthday alone.

From now on, I would make sure to enjoy every birthday of mine.

Halfway through my meal, Katherine's call came in. Her voice carried a trace of urgency.

"Grayson, you saw Leslie's post, didn't you?"

"Yep."

"I'll come home after celebrating his birthday. Next year, I'll spend it with you. Don't make a fuss, okay? Be the bigger person."

There was a time when I would have reacted with shouting and tears, but not anymore. I simply replied, "Okay."

The next morning, a little past seven, my phone rang, jolting me awake. It stopped after three rings. I picked it up and saw Katherine's name on the screen.

She had always been too lazy to use her key, so she'd call and let it ring three times as her signal for me to open the door. No matter what I'd been doing, I would always rush to let her in.

But not today. I tossed the phone aside, pulled the blanket over my head, and went back to sleep.

She knew where the spare key was—under the shoe rack by the door.

I had stayed up until three last night packing, and my head still felt heavy. The phone rang a few more times, but I didn't bother to check it.

I didn't know how much time had passed before I heard the sound of someone unlocking the door. The door banged against the wall, and then the bedroom door was flung open.

Katherine's angry voice followed.

"Grayson! Why didn't you open the door for me? I called you so many times! You know I hate using keys!"

I opened my eyes and looked at her without emotion. "I was too tired. I didn't hear it."

Katherine opened her mouth as if to argue but stopped herself. Instead, she said, "I'm starving. Get up and make me some food. I didn't sleep at all last night, so I need to eat before taking a nap."

In the past, I would've jumped out of bed and rushed to the kitchen. But now, I said calmly, "I'm tired too. Go downstairs and buy breakfast yourself."

Katherine's face darkened, but she forced herself to stay composed. "Are you still mad about yesterday? About not spending your birthday with you?"

"No, you're overthinking it," I replied.

She didn't believe me and kept talking. "Leslie is like my brother. His parents passed away early—who else would spend his birthday with him if not me? Don't be so petty. If you keep acting like this, I'll get mad!"

"You're right. It's only natural for you to be there for him. I'm not mad."

Unable to sleep anymore, I got up and went to the bathroom.

Katherine grabbed my hand and, with obvious reluctance, pulled out a red string bracelet from her pocket. "Here. Don't sulk anymore. It's your birthday gift. I chose something red to bring you good luck."

I looked at the cheap red string and the dangling metal charm swaying with her movement. It felt perfunctory.

Then I thought about the expensive watch in Leslie's post, and a bitter smile crept onto my face.

For months, I had assumed her careful saving was to buy me a birthday gift. Turns out, I had been fooling myself.

I glanced down at my wrist, where the watch my mom had sent me a few days ago rested.

"Thanks, but I already have a watch. It's inconvenient to wear both, so you can keep it."

Katherine's expression hardened. "You said you weren't mad. But now you're rejecting my gift? You always used to be happy no matter what I gave you. Are you looking down on me now?"

Her income wasn't high, and the gifts she gave me on my birthdays were always cheap—a few dollars, maybe a few dozen at most. Sometimes, she even forgot to get me anything. I had never minded.

But when her birthday came, I always made sure to prepare a proper gift. Just last week, I gave her a gold necklace.