The Choice I Made

The condo felt cold and unwelcoming when I returned. I wanted nothing more than to climb into bed and close my eyes, shutting out the world. But before I could, Kyle walked in, his footsteps purposeful, his face set with an expression I had grown weary of seeing—confusion laced with self-righteousness.

“You’ve been acting strangely, Katheryn,” he said, shutting the door behind him. “Is this because I’ve been busy?”

I didn’t respond, slipping off my shoes and heading towards the room. He followed me, wrapping his arms around me as I stood by the bed.

“I’ll make it up to you, Okay?” he murmured, his voice soft and soothing.

I almost snorted aloud. Make it up? That was an illusion—a promise Kyle had made countless times and never kept. The thought was laughable now, especially with Jane firmly entrenched in his life. I wondered, for the hundredth time, if he even realized how absurd he sounded. What woman in her right mind would be happy with her boyfriend spending so much time “helping” another woman behind her back?

Kyle pulled back slightly and sighed. “I’m upset too, you know. What you said to Jane earlier was uncalled for. I’m just helping her settle in. Why do you have to be so harsh?”

I bit my tongue, resisting the urge to correct him. I hadn’t said anything to Jane, much less anything harsh. But I had no energy to argue. Instead, I forced a small apology from my lips, hollow and devoid of meaning.

Kyle tilted his head, studying me. “What can I do to make things better?”

For a moment, I was quiet, then an idea came to mind. “I want to celebrate my birthday with you. Properly this time.”

He blinked, taken aback. “Your birthday? Of course! I’ll arrange everything.”

“And let’s do it tomorrow. I’m busy the day after,” I said and removed his arms wrapped around her. I felt repulsive and disgusted at the same time.

“Tomorrow?” Kyle frowned. “Why so soon?”

“I just am,” I said curtly. Trying to dismiss it as I don't want to dwell more into it.

Kyle hesitated but eventually nodded. “Fine. I’ll prepare something special.”

As he left the room to make arrangements, I didn’t need to guess who he’d call first. Jane, of course. I shook my head, thinking of how little time remained before I’d be out of this country, married to someone else—a stranger.

The next day, Kyle texted me an address. When I arrived, I stopped outside and set a timer on my phone. It was symbolic—the countdown to my departure, to a new chapter in my life. Then I walked in.

The space was humble, almost childlike in its design. Balloons and paper decorations hung awkwardly, as if someone had tried too hard. I didn’t need to guess who had planned it. Jane’s fingerprints were all over the immaturity.

“Do you like it?” Jane’s overly sweet voice startled me. She was smiling, but I could see the malice beneath her expression.

Before I could respond, something caught my eye—my blue sapphire jewelry set, sparkling against her neck. My parents had given it to me, and Kyle had borrowed it for his mother. So why was it here?

“It suits you,” I said dryly. “Secondhand things always do.” As I eyed the necklace around her neck.

Jane’s face turned red, and without warning, she picked up a vase and smashed it against the floor. The sound was sharp, drawing the attention of everyone around us. She began sobbing loudly, her cries echoing through the small room.

Kyle burst in moments later, his eyes scanning the scene. When he saw Jane crying and the broken vase, his glare landed on me.

“What happened?” he demanded.

Jane sniffled. “Katheryn said she hated the decorations. She got so angry she threw the vase.”

I said nothing, my face impassive.

Kyle’s anger boiled over. “If you didn’t like it, you could’ve decorated it yourself!” His voice rose, and before I could react, his hand struck my cheek, sending me stumbling to the floor. My palms landed on shards of the broken vase, and pain shot through my hands.

Kyle turned his back on me, helping Jane out of the room. The crowd dispersed soon after, leaving me alone in the aftermath.

I sat on a nearby chair, exhaling a long, weary sigh. My cheek throbbed, my hands stung, but I didn’t feel anything inside—no anger, no sadness. Just emptiness.

A soft voice startled me. “Are you alright?”

I looked up to see a man standing in front of me. He was handsome, with sharp features and a gentle air about him. In his hand was a small first-aid kit.

Without waiting for a response, he crouched and began cleaning my wounds. His touch was careful, his movements efficient.

“You should be more careful,” he said as he bandaged my hands.

I nodded. “Thank you.”

Before he left, I asked, “Will you join me for a moment?”

He hesitated, then smiled and nodded.

I lit a candle on a slice of cake, closed my eyes, and made a wish: “May we never meet again, Kyle.”

When I blew out the candle, the man smirked faintly, his eyes watching me intently as I stood to leave.

“Interesting,” he murmured, his voice low but clear.

And with that, I walked out, leaving everything behind.