Love Shatters Like Lies

When the ambulance arrived, I didn't go with them.

I just stood there and watched it drive away, then wandered home alone with my legs barely holding me up.

Once inside, I checked the next available flight.

For the next few days, I threw myself into work, playing through the performances I couldn't cancel. It was back-to-back with no breaks at all.

When the final show ended, I went home, weighed down with a heaviness I couldn't shake.

When I opened the door, the lights in the dark living room flicked on.

Charles walked toward me, holding a massive bouquet of red roses.

Red roses, heart-shaped candles, and a candlelit dinner.

Everything was set up to look romantic.

He smiled as he handed me the flowers. "Happy eighth anniversary, darling.

"I haven't been around much lately… Stella's been going through something, and I had to help her before I could come back.

"I was going to book that fancy couples' restaurant, but since it's hard for either of us to show our faces in public, I figured we could celebrate at home this year.

"Natalie, about us… We should just keep things quiet for now. I know you'll understand my decision, right?"

A cold, empty feeling spread through my chest, pressing down on me like I couldn't breathe. Did he really think that I was that naïve?

I didn't even look at him. I walked past, checking once more to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything.

He noticed my silence and guided me to sit at the table.

The steak smelled incredible—seared to perfection. He obviously didn't cook it himself.

In all our years together, I was always the one who cooked. I never let him near the stove, worried his depression might push him into something dangerous.

Now, he looked at me with his eyes filled with anticipation. He had never made this much effort before.

I didn't call him out. I just took a bland and mechanical bite.

Charles must've taken that as a sign I was softening. He always thought I was easy to please.

A bar of fancy chocolate and a box of my favorite pastries—he used to think that's all it took to make things right.

And now? He'd gone all out tonight.

But I wasn't the same Natalie I used to be. Anyone could pretend. Anyone could play along.

Charles pulled out a slice of strawberry shortcake and, just like he used to, dipped his finger into the cream and reached over to dab it on the tip of my nose.

However, I turned away this time.

He pulled back awkwardly, forcing a laugh. "You love desserts. I waited forever in line for this."

But I'd already seen the exact same cake on Stella's Twitter earlier today—

"My boyfriend waited in line forever to get this! I'm so happy! But I'm watching my weight, so I'll just take a picture for now."

It was something she didn't even want.

I took a bite anyway, just to go through the motions. The cream was sweet, but it turned bitter in my mouth.

Seeing me play along, Charles let out a quiet breath of relief. Then, he spoke like he was stepping on thin ice.

"Natalie, there's something I need to talk to you about. Stella's agency is holding a press conference tomorrow, and I need to be there."

He paused slightly to watch my reaction.

"They want us to go public—as a couple. It's just for publicity and to protect her image. That's all. Don't take it the wrong way."

I froze for half a second, then gave him a smile. "Sure. I understand."

After all, I was just being told, not asked, like always. It didn't matter what I said.

If he'd already made up his mind, why pretend to ask for my input?

A flicker of confusion crossed Charles' eyes. He opened his mouth to say something more.

But under his baffled gaze, I calmly finished the cake, then stood up, went to my room, and locked the door.

I leaned against it and stayed there for a long time. Because deep down, I already knew—I didn't need Charles anymore.

On the way home after my final show, I passed a massive ad display at the mall. Plastered across the walls were posters of Charles proposing to Stella.

There he was, on the giant LED screen, dressed in a white suit, down on one knee with an extravagant diamond ring.

A group of Stella's fans came, just to snap pictures.

"Did you hear? Charles and Stella are getting married!"

"I knew they must be a couple! Did you see the way he looks at her? You can't fake that kind of love!"

"I heard that they're going on a couples' reality show together—the proposal scene is from the final episode!"

Listening to them gush over how sweet the two of them were, I felt an unexpected tightness in my chest.

I wiped away tears that had started to fall and swallowed down the bitterness rising in my throat.

Just then, Charles called.

I picked up, inhaled slowly, and answered coldly, "What is it?"

There was a brief pause before his voice softened.

"Natalie, I'll be away for a little while. But when I'm back, I'll propose to you properly.

"You've always dreamed of a beach wedding, right? I'll give you the grandest, most beautiful one you've ever seen."

A grand wedding. How romantic. But I didn't need it anymore.

Not when every promise, every word of love, had turned out to be a lie. It was time to let go.

After I ended the call, I changed my flight to leave that night.

Once I boarded, I sent him a final message.

"We're over, Charles. I wish you and Stella all the happiness you deserve."

As the plane prepared for takeoff, the flight attendant gently reminded me to switch to airplane mode. His relentless calls and messages lit up my screen, one after another.

I stared at them blankly, then powered off my phone without a word.