My company's headquarters was finally relocating to the city where my boyfriend, Malcom Ellsworth, lived.

Before the big shift officially kicked off, I snuck over to his apartment, my heart racing with the thrill of surprising him.

To my shock, the door lock refused to budge when I punched in my birthday as the code.

With a sinking feeling, I pulled out the spare key and let myself in.

His laptop sat open, the screen alive with an AI search page.

The query he'd entered stabbed at me: "Our 100-day anniversary with my girlfriend is just days away. What dishes should I cook to make it special?"

My world tilted. I stumbled, clutching the wall for support as my legs threatened to give way.

Malcom and I had been together for three whole years!

***

The laptop perched on the coffee table, its screen casting a harsh glow.

That damning question seared into my vision like a brand.

Suddenly, I remembered our third anniversary had slipped by just last week.

Malcom hadn't bothered to mark the occasion at all.

"Gerda," he'd mumbled, "I've been buried in work, barely scraping time to eat. It's only an anniversary—let's just do it next year."

Yet now, he was pouring his energy into planning a romantic feast for some other woman, celebrating a mere hundred days together.

My mind went blank, a fog of disbelief clouding everything.

The moment the relocation was greenlit, I'd dashed here.

In my hand, I still gripped that early-morning ticket from the 5 a.m. flight, its sharp edges digging angry red marks into my fingertips.

I grabbed the laptop and flipped open the photo album.

It was crammed with snapshots of him and his new lover.

Pictures from trips around the world, capturing their laughter and adventures.

Not a single photo had me in it, yet the backgrounds were painfully familiar. He'd taken me to those places too.

A hollow, bitter chuckle escaped my lips. How could I have been so blind, so utterly foolish?

The door lock chimed suddenly.

I bolted into the bedroom, heart pounding.

In walked Malcom, arm in arm with another woman.

"Mack, you switched the code to my birthday? Aw, you're the best," she cooed, her voice all sugary sweetness.

Malcom grinned, his eyes twinkling with affection.

"Of course, this place is yours from now on. Set the code to whatever sticks in your mind."

My hands curled into fists, fury burning up my throat.

Malcom looked like he had forgotten this apartment was mine.

Then I saw the logo on the bag in his hand. It was from my favorite bakery.

Just last week, I'd craved one of their cakes, but he'd shot me down, telling me it couldn't be shipped that far.

"Come on, dive into this cake," he urged her now, booping her nose playfully.

"The line's always insane there. Last time she wanted one, I couldn't even muster the effort. But for you? I'd wait all day."

"I know," she replied with a mischievous grin. "They only make ten a day—it's like winning the lottery to get one."

I bit back a surge of fury, my hands trembling as I snatched my phone and dialed his number. The ringtone echoed through the room. Malcom furrowed his brow but didn't pick up.

The girl smirked, her tone dripping with disdain.

"Mack, it's that old hag again, isn't it?

"She never quits, does she?"

Malcom stayed silent, ignoring the call altogether. After a few rings, it went to voicemail.

Rage boiled inside me, shaking me to my core. If he wouldn't show me respect, then the gloves were off.

I shoved the bedroom door open with a bang. Both of them froze.

Instinctively, Malcom shielded that woman behind him, stammering in panic, "What are you doing here? You said you weren't coming over anytime soon!"

The way he protected her twisted a knife in my heart.

"If I hadn't shown up, how would I have found out someone's eagerly stepping in as my boyfriend's side piece?"

Malcom's face flushed crimson, then darkened like a storm cloud.

"Gerda, watch your mouth! Renie's not like that at all!"

Then I placed her. It was Dorene Ashton, his assistant.

Dorene shot back, sharp as a whip.

"So you're Geraldine Walsh? Let me set you straight: the one who's not loved is the real third wheel!

"Mack's been done with you for ages. I suggest you stop hounding him."

My eyes welled up, burning as I turned to Malcom.

"Is that how you feel too?"

I took a step forward, and Dorene let out a dramatic shriek, as if I'd lunged at her.

In a flash, Malcom shoved me hard, sending me sprawling to the floor.

I stared up at him in utter disbelief, my breath caught in my throat.

He seemed stunned himself for a moment, then glanced at me with a conflicted expression.

"Gerda, don't do this."

Then, he turned to the girl, his tone softening.

"It's okay, Renie. Head home for now—I'll handle this."

Dorene tossed me a smug glance before walking away with a definite spring in her step.

Malcom extended a hand toward me, but I swatted it away.

I scrambled to my feet, disheveled and seething. "Back off—don't pretend you care."

He withdrew awkwardly, mumbling, "Gerda, it's not what you think."

"Oh yeah? Then what is it?"

He faltered, stuttering out, "Gerda, I was just... lonely in this long-distance thing..."

"You're lonely? And I'm not? Malcom, don't insult me with that excuse."

I cut straight through his flimsy justification, my words sharp as daggers.

That ignited his temper. "Fine, then what do you even bring to the table?

"You can't give me company, and you're no help with my job. What's the point of being with you?

"Renie's my assistant—she's been by my side through it all, and we nailed that big company project together."

I stared at him, dumbfounded by his stupidity.

He actually believed he'd landed that project without my approval.

Seeing my silence, Malcom softened his tone.

"Alright, Gerda, Renie won't threaten your spot. You're still my girlfriend."

He rummaged through a stack of gift boxes, plucking out the tiniest one.

Inside was a cheap trinket, the kind that came free with the high-end gemstones I'd splurged on recently.

He handed it over like he was tossing scraps to a beggar.

"Here, Gerda—this is for you, to make up for that missed anniversary.

"Take it and drop the drama. I mean, besides that ratty old earring, I never see you wearing jewelry anyway. You probably don't realize, but this thing's pricey."

I let out a sardonic laugh. The reason I skipped flashy baubles was simple: I invested only in pieces with real appreciation potential.

With a swift slap, I knocked it from his hand. "That junk's tainted—I don't want it.

"And you can pack your things and get out. This apartment belongs to me!"

Malcom actually laughed.

"Gerda, there's a limit to your tantrums. This place was a perk from the company for my talent. What's it got to do with you?

"I'll book you a ticket back. From now on, I'll swing by the first week of every month. That works for you?"

I was livid, steam practically pouring from my ears.

Malcom had scraped through a mediocre community college. All along, I'd been the one boosting him from the shadows. Now, he actually bought into his own hype.

Noticing I hadn't budged, he mustered a flicker of guilt.

"I get it, you're hurting. Tell you what—eat something before you go. I'll check on Renie later, okay?"

With that, he guided me to a corner of the sofa, pressing me down.

"Don't touch anything nearby; Renie picked those out herself, and she hates when others mess with her stuff.

"I'll whip up some food. Stay put."

He tied on an apron and headed to the kitchen. A few minutes later, he came out with a plate of pasta.

"That's all we've got in the home." He nudged the plate closer. He didn't rush me, but his constant glances at his watch and the rhythmic tapping on the table screamed impatience.

Locking eyes with him, I sneered, "Just this? No king crab, no lobster, no caviar, no foie gras, and no fine red wine?"

He flinched. He knew I'd seen the menu he'd planned for his other anniversary.

His face twisted in embarrassment. In a fit, he swept the pasta off the table.

The ceramic plate we'd crafted together once shattered across the floor, mirroring the wreckage of our relationship in jagged pieces.

"Geraldine, don't be so difficult! I'm giving you an easy way out—why not just take it gracefully?

"You're just making things worse with all this drama; it's only pushing me further away. Forget dinner. Just leave! I took tomorrow off to take Renie to the zoo, and I don't have time to babysit you."

Last month, when I'd asked Malcom to join me for a quick mall stroll, he'd grumbled about it being a hassle.

But now, at Dorene's slightest whim, he was clearing his schedule for a zoo outing with her.

I gave a hollow laugh. I'd been so blinded by love that I'd let a man like him treat me this way.

I snatched up my bag, ready to storm out.

Before crossing the threshold, I shot him an icy warning. "You've got five days to pack up and leave, or I'll take whatever steps necessary."

Malcom didn't even answer.

He'd already pivoted to texting Dorene, as if I weren't even in the room.

Once outside, I dialed my assistant.

"In five days, bring an agent and clear out my Seattle apartment for sale. Toss everything inside—if anyone gets in the way, call the cops."

"Got it."

Return flights were sold out for the next couple of days, so I settled for one a bit later.

To my surprise, Malcom called me after a few days.

"Gerda, I've been thinking about everything. It was my fault. Can you come over? I want to apologize."

"No need. Just vacate the place ASAP—I don't want to see your face!"

On the other end, Malcom choked, clearly caught off guard by my frosty tone.

"Gerda, come on, don't be stubborn. I know you're still fuming.

"You left an earring here the other day. At least you should swing by and pick it up."

That earring—I'd searched high and low for it. So it had ended up at Malcom's.

It was my mother's heirloom, something I'd worn religiously, cherishing it like a piece of her soul.

It must have slipped off when Malcom shoved me that day.

"I'll be right there."

The instant I stepped inside, Dorene smeared a glob of cream across my face.

"Gerda, I heard from Mack that you're a cake fanatic.

"Since he wouldn't get one for you, here's a treat from me—hahaha!"

I frantically grabbed a towel from the table to wipe it off.

But the mango cream was already triggering angry red hives across my skin.

Dorene let out a piercing screech and shoved me hard.

"That's the limited-edition towel Mack bought for me! Who told you you could use it?"

Just then, Malcom walked out of the kitchen holding a platter of king crab.

He gazed at Dorene with the same tender eyes he'd once reserved for me.

"Alright, are you done now? We agreed on just a light teasing, remember?"

Turning to me, he added, "Come on, Gerda—Renie's just being childish. Don't take it to heart."

"Today's our hundred-day milestone, and Renie suggested inviting you along so you wouldn't have to spend the night moping alone."

Malcom glanced around, then plucked a grimy dish from the floor where the dog was chowing down on kibble.

It was the feminine half of the couple's set I'd bought for us.

"There aren't any clean dishes left. You can use this one."

My nails dug into my palms as I fought to control the boiling rage.

"No need! Just give me my earring."

Dorene dangled the earring tauntingly, her grin laced with venom.

"This little thing? It looks so tacky—green, of all colors. Totally out of style, you old crone."

I lunged to grab it, but Malcom shoved me aside.

"Gerda, that's too much! Renie's just messing with you."

In that moment, Dorene gasped dramatically.

"Oops, how clumsy of me—the earring slipped."

She ground her stiletto heel into it repeatedly, crushing it underfoot.

My vision went red. I charged at her and slapped her hard across the face.

"You bitch—that's my mother's keepsake!"