The Birthday That Buried Us

Mike kept his word. He hadn't come home in a week.

It was as if he had forgotten my existence.

Meanwhile, Cathy's Instagram was constantly updated, each post a deliberate display of her life with Mike—photos scattered across the timeline, desperate to be seen.

I ignored them. Instead, I blocked her.

The only reason I had ever added her in the first place was because, three years ago, Mike had worked late one night and still wasn't home by two in the morning. His phone was off.

Panic gripped me.

I called every mutual friend we had, my fingers shaking as I dialed, my stomach twisting with dread.

Finally, someone hesitantly admitted they had seen him at the airport—his arms around his ex.

And then, they sent me Cathy's contact information.

The first message I sent her was short.

Jess: [Is Mike with you?]

Cathy: [Yes.]

The moment I read her reply, the panic inside me evaporated. In its place, a quiet, crushing ache settled deep in my heart.

I had spent years swallowing my pride, making compromises, all to keep Mike by my side.

But we had both forgotten one thing—marriage doesn't have room for three people.

Then came my birthday.

I had originally planned to sit down with him and talk things through.

Now, I no longer saw the point.

After blocking Cathy, I went to City Hall to sort out the last of my mom's affairs.

When I got home, a pair of unfamiliar high heels sat by the front door.

Cathy was here.

I stepped inside and found them curled up on the couch, sharing an ice cream.

Their faces were close—too close.

When they licked it at the same time, Cathy laughed, her eyes crinkling with amusement.

Mike leaned in to kiss her.

Rage flooded my veins, a violent, uncontainable surge.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I snapped.

Mike stiffened. Slowly, he turned to look at me.

For a moment, I saw a flicker of guilt in his expression. Then, just as quickly, he masked it with feigned composure.

"You're home," he said, like this was any other day. "Where did you go?"

Before I could answer, Cathy spoke up.

"Jess, were you out looking for Mikey?" she asked, her voice light, almost teasing. "Don't worry, we didn't do anything."

Her words shifted something in Mike's demeanor.

His gaze swept over me, laced with disdain.

"I told you to stay home," he muttered. "Why are you running around? And dressed like that? You look like a mess."

I glanced down at my outfit.

Funny.

He was the one who had picked out these clothes for me.

I could still hear his voice from that day—"Jess, this looks good on you."

Now, he found it embarrassing.

Right. Compared to the designer labels draped over Cathy, I must've been an eyesore.

I let out a short, bitter laugh.

"What's wrong?" I asked. "Afraid I'm getting in the way of your little date?"

Mike sighed, rubbing his temples. "You're overthinking things. I'm just taking care of her. That's all."

Cathy suddenly started coughing, her frail body trembling with each breath.

"That's right," she gasped between coughs. "If I hadn't gotten pneumonia from being drugged, I wouldn't have troubled Mikey at all."

Mike's expression softened immediately. He poured her a glass of water, his voice gentle. "Drink slowly. I already prepared your medicine—it should help."

As Cathy took a sip, she turned her gaze to me, her eyes full of carefully crafted innocence.

"I'll be okay, Mikey," she said. "Jess seems upset. You should go comfort her."

Mike scoffed.

"Don't be ridiculous," he told her. "I already took time off work. I'll be here to take care of you."

Once he finished fussing over her, he finally turned back to me, his patience wearing thin.

"Well?" he said. "Why are you just standing there? Go clean up the guest room—Cathy will be staying here for a while."

I started shaking. My entire body trembled with fury, my fingers curling into fists.

"Are you serious?" My voice came out strangled, unable to contain the sheer rage bubbling beneath it. "Cheating on me behind my back wasn't enough? You want to do it in front of me now?"

Mike hesitated, frowning. "She's still recovering. Our place is closer to the hospital. It makes sense for her to stay here."

I let out a sharp, humorless laugh.

Then, I reached into my bag and pulled out a document.

"Why go through all this trouble?" I asked, holding it up. "Sign this. I'll leave. Then you and Cathy can have all the space you want."