On My Birthday, He Announced His Wedding to Another Woman

I turned around to find Serafina and Adrian sitting at a table near the far wall, beneath pendant lights that cast a warm amber glow across white tablecloths. Serafina was beaming up at me. "It's so nice to see you. Here for their specials too?" She leaned forward, her excitement unmasked, as though running into me were the most delightful coincidence in the world.

Adrian froze for a moment when he saw me, but quickly recovered, his expression rearranging itself into something easy and welcoming. "I was just about to call you and invite you to join us for dinner. What a coincidence that you also came here. This place is packed, come sit with us," he said, gesturing for the waiter to bring an extra set of utensils. His jaw shifted once to the side before the smile settled, a faint tell I had learned to recognize over eight years and had only now begun to understand. I hadn't eaten much at lunch and now, my stomach was rumbling. I figured I might as well stay and join them.

"Ms. Moretti, I remember you like spicy food," Serafina chimed in. "Let me order some for you."

I glanced at the table. Everything was light and mild, totally not what Adrian and I usually went for. We both loved spicy food. He had once told me that dishes without chili were like lifeless meals. Without spice, it was as if the food had no soul. Of course Adrian didn't bat an eye, as the fresh meal spread in front of him told a different story now, one rewritten entirely for the woman sitting at his side.

"Hold on, now. I think we both know who's gonna eat the spicy dish," Adrian said with a teasing grin. He shot Serafina a displeased look. "Serafina... didn't you hear the doctor? You need to lay off the spice and stick to lighter food."

Serafina rolled her eyes playfully. "Alright, alright, Mr. Nagging. I won't order it, jeez. Happy now?"

Watching them bicker, my heart, already battered, didn't even twitch. It was numb to it all now. The warmth in his voice, the gentle scolding, the easy rhythm of two people who had built their own private language. None of it reached me anymore. I sat in a restaurant full of strangers with a man I had loved for eight years and felt nothing but the quiet, hollow hum of absence.

He sighed and shook his head. "You guys go ahead, I need to make a quick call."

As soon as Adrian walked away, pushing through the crowd toward the quieter corridor near the restrooms, Serafina's smile faded. The transformation was immediate, like a lamp being switched off. She shot me a look filled with challenge, her posture straightening, one manicured nail tapping a single brittle beat against the rim of her water glass before going still.

"So, Bianca, right? I have to admit, I'm impressed," she said, her voice laced with scorn. "You know Adrian just proposed to me, yet here you are, still clinging to him. You sure have some nerve."

I heard the contempt in her words, but I didn't flinch. The restaurant noise pressed in around us, silverware clinking, laughter from a nearby table, someone uncorking a bottle of wine. None of it mattered. Looking up at her, I replied, "Is stealing someone's man something to be proud of? Do you think it's worth flaunting in front of everyone?"

"You—" She started, her mouth opening in surprise, but before she could finish, a thick cloud of smoke suddenly wafted from the kitchen.