Missed and Regret

After having the 111th Cold War with Shawn Stewart, I found two theater tickets in his coat pocket.

"I wanted to give you a birthday surprise. Since you've found them, let's meet this weekend," he said indifferently.

On the weekend, I dressed up and waited until the end of the play, but he never showed up.

I checked my phone and saw a tweet by his childhood sweetheart.

[Although I didn't get the tickets, I forgive you for accompanying me to the movies in the pouring rain.]

In the past, I would have immediately called Shawn, crying and demanding an explanation.

But now I was tired.

A once-in-a-century thunderstorm paralyzed the city's transportation.

The theater closed. Without an umbrella or a chance to hail a cab, I limped towards the street in my high heels.

My phone rang. It was Shawn calling.

"Where are you? A married woman out so late," he asked impatiently.

My silence only aggravated his annoyance.

"Have you lost your voice, Janet Ward?" he snapped.

"I'm at the Provincial Theater," I responded.

Shawn finally remembered our plans.

There was a long silence before he spoke again. "Send me your location, I'm coming over."

I hadn't intended for him to come pick me up, but someone accidentally bumped into me.

I fell into the mud and sprained my ankle, unable to walk.

An hour and twenty-three minutes later, I huddled miserably in the raging storm and looked at the chat interface one last time before my phone died.

Shawn didn't come or send any messages.

In the end, a kind-hearted driver took me to a nearby hotel.

I checked in, charged my phone, and habitually checked out Emily Coleman's FB page.

Half an hour ago, she posted a new update.

[No power? No problem. A knight escorted me back to my castle.]

The picture showed her father and Shawn drinking coffee together.

I blocked and deleted Emily.

After a moment's thought, I treated Shawn the same.

Married for six years, no matter how we argued, I never deleted Shawn.

But now I was truly tired.

The next day was Monday. I went from the hotel to the company.

Just as I arrived at my desk, my boss looked at me strangely.

"The HR department just told me you were taking sick leave today," he said.

Shawn, the vice president of this company, ordered me to rest, and the HR department had no objections.

I smiled and said I wasn't sick.

During lunch break, when I went to the pantry to make coffee, Shawn unexpectedly appeared.

He usually worked on the top floor and had never condescended to find me before.

This was the first time, but his expression was cold.

"Is it fun to stay out all night, Janet? You know my temper. If this happens again..." he started.

I cut him off, saying, "Don't worry, there won't be a next time."

I was going to divorce him.

Then our paths would not cross again.

How could there be a next time?

My unusually calm attitude left him stunned.

He didn't expect me not to ask where he had been last night.

After I finished making the coffee, he took it for a sip, frowned with disgust, and poured it.

"Meet me at the parking lot after work. I'll take you out to dinner," he said.

I knew this was his way of making up for standing me up yesterday.

Since I had something to say to him, I agreed.

When I went back, I saw the milk and sweets my colleagues had put on my desk, along with a sticky note. [Happy Birthday, Janet.]

I turned aside and wiped my tears.

I finished the milk and sweets, worked hard until the end of the shift, and then went to the parking lot as Shawn instructed.

Just as I saw him, he started the engine and drove straight past me.

He didn't even look at me.

He had just called him, saying he had a last-minute appointment, and asked him to head to the restaurant alone.

At the restaurant, I found a seat, called over a waiter, and ordered my favorite wine steak.

Shawn was always busy, and I was used to waiting.

My stomach issue was developed in the process.