He Clung to My Endless Devotion

It was the final event of my boyfriends company gala: the couples waltz.

The familiar opening notes drifted through the ballroom. It was the Serenade waltz, the exact song we had danced to ten years ago at our college dance championship.

Standing beside me, my best friend, Becca, gasped and covered her mouth. "Oh my gosh, Summer, this is your song! Ten years later, and Gavin has finally taken the hint. Do you think hes going to propose tonight?"

A soft smile touched my lips as I smoothed down my dress, taking a step toward Gavin. But before I could reach him, I watched him take the hand of a young girl and lead her onto the floor.

They moved with seamless grace, perfectly in sync with the music. It was obvious they had practiced this countless times in private.

The spotlight followed their elegant silhouettes across the room. I stood frozen in the dim corner, feeling like a dusty, expired relic.

Gavin looked alive, his eyes bright with a spark I hadn't seen in years. But he had no idea that this waltz was the very last chance I was willing to give him.

Ten years. The waltz had expired, and so had my love for him.

I pulled out my phone and sent a quick reply on my messaging app:

Mom, I accept the arrangement with Nolan Sinclair.

"Summer! That little secretary did that on purpose!" Becca hissed, pacing back and forth, practically vibrating with rage. "I saw the way she looked at you during those spins. It was pure provocation!"

I gently caught her wrist to stop her. "Let it go, Becca. Im done waiting for him."

Beccas eyes welled with tears. "Oh, babe. You deserve so much better."

As the music faded, the young girl walked over to us, her hand still tucked comfortably into Gavins arm.

"Oh, Summer!" she chirped, looking at me with wide, innocent eyes. "I heard you were the waltz queen back in college! Im so clumsy. Gavin tried to teach me a hundred times, and I still cant get the steps right."

Gavin patted her head affectionately, a gesture so tender it belonged to someone coaxing a kitten. "Youre not clumsy at all. Besides, Summer only won back then because the competition was weak."

I swallowed the sudden tightness in my throat. With one casual sentence, he had completely erased years of my hard work.

"I don't dance anymore," I said, my voice flat. "Ive forgotten the steps anyway."

Sensing the shift in my tone, Gavins brow furrowed slightly. "Youre thirty years old, Summer. Don't be petty with a kid."

I offered a polite nod. "Of course. You two were wonderful. Would you like me to clap for you?"

Amber lowered her head, her lower lip trembling with rehearsed vulnerability. "Summer, I really didn't mean to take up so much of Gavins time. But since you don't work in the corporate world, you might not realize that social dancing is a necessary skill for networking."

Gavin nodded in agreement. "Shes never set foot in an office, so she wouldn't understand. Don't worry about it, Amber."

For the rest of the night, Gavin kept Amber glued to his side. He even intercepted drinks meant for her. "Shes just a kid, guys. Don't make her drink."

I watched them, my mind drifting back to our early days.

During the first year of his startup, I was the one drinking myself to sickness to secure clients for him, pushing through a severe alcohol allergy until my body literally went numb to it. I remembered him holding me by the curb as I threw up, his eyes filled with absolute anguish.

Summer, youve suffered so much for me, he had cried, clutching me close. I swear Ill give you the life you deserve.

The vows back then were real, and his love was genuine. But just like that college waltz, it had a shelf life. And it had finally expired.

"Get in," Gavin said later, opening the car door. "I called a driver."

I slid into the passenger seat and immediately noticed the tilt of the backrest had been altered. When I flipped down the vanity mirror, a familiar tube of lipstick rolled into my lap: Dior 999, Rogue Red.

It was a bold, crimson shade I never wore. The bullet of the lipstick was visibly worn down.

In my mind, a vivid picture painted itself: Gavin driving Amber to a business dinner, her sitting in this very seat, applying this red lipstick while chatting away.

But it wasn't just the lipstick. In the glove compartment, there was an eyebrow pencil, a small makeup bag, and even a few personal hygiene pads.

Amber was marking her territory, staking her claim piece by piece. Gavin had to have seen them, but he chose to look the other way.

The city neon flickered across the window, casting a pale, exhausted shadow over my reflection. I looked drained, empty of the warmth I used to carry.

"Gavin," I murmured, staring at the glass. "Let's end this."

He was sitting in the back seat, completely absorbed in his phone. He didn't hear me.

"Its pouring out," Gavin said into his receiver, his voice dropping to a gentle murmur. "You won't find a cab at this hour. Go wait in the hotel lobby. Ill come back to pick you up in a bit. Don't catch a cold."

The rearview mirror caught his expression: tender, protective, and warm. It was a look that had once been exclusively mine.

"Did you say something, Summer?" he asked, not bothering to look up from his screen. The blue light illuminated the sharp angles of his face, making him look distant.

"I said, Gavin, let's break up."

He finally raised his eyes. He froze for a second, and then a small, patronizing laugh escaped him. "Are you seriously jealous, Summer? Amber is dealing with a lot right now. Im just trying to help her out where I can."

I remained silent, staring out at the rain.

His tone took on a sharp edge of irritation. "Have you forgotten how hard it was for us when we first started? Im just trying to be a decent person. Stop overthinking everything."

The car pulled up to our villa. The moment I stepped out, the tires screeched as the car reversed and sped off. He was in a rush to get back to Amber.

He had worried about another woman getting wet in the rain, but he forgot that our driveway had no awning, and I had no umbrella.

Drenched, I walked into the empty house.

The first thing I did was turn on the stereo, playing that familiar "Serenade" waltz. I opened my cloud drive and found a video saved from ten years ago: our sophomore year dance competition.

In the video, he was vibrant and young; I was radiant and full of life.

I watched it to the very last frame, and then, without hesitation, I pressed delete. It was a quiet, final closing of a ten-year chapter.

My phone buzzed. It was a text from Gavin.

Amber sprained her ankle during the dance but didn't say anything. Im at the hospital with her now. Its going to be late, so go to sleep first. Goodnight.

I typed back a single word:

Goodnight.

In the past, I would have reminded him to drive safely, to hurry home, to text me when he arrived. Starting tonight, there would be none of that.

I began sorting through the cabinets, pulling out old keepsakes.

Among them was an unfinished oil painting from our days in the damp basement apartment. Gavin had started painting it years ago, trying to capture the two of us dancing. Seven years after graduation, the canvas remained half-blank.

It was the perfect metaphor for our relationship.

My fingers traced the dry, textured brushstrokes. Beside the canvas lay a half-empty pack of cigarettes.

I had begged him to quit so many times, telling him it wasn't healthy, especially if we wanted to start a family someday.

He had always brushed it off. Were not even married yet. We can worry about kids later.

Perhaps he had never envisioned a marriage with me at all.

I took a cigarette and lit it. The harsh, bitter smoke flooded my chest for the first time in my life.

I ended up in a coughing fit, tears burning my eyes. Gavin was just like this cigarette: toxic, foreign, and never meant for me.

Slowly, I pressed the glowing cherry of the cigarette directly onto the oil painting, burning a black hole right through his face.

A sudden, intoxicating rush of relief washed over me.

At three in the morning, the front door finally clicked open. Gavin walked in, carrying the faint, sweet scent of Givenchy powder: Ambers signature fragrance.

She was supposed to be a struggling intern, yet she was draped in luxury brands. I had chosen not to speak of these things, but it didn't mean I hadn't noticed.

"Sorry Im so late," Gavin said, coming up behind me after his shower and wrapping his arms around my waist. "The ER doctor was a resident and took forever with Amber's bandages."

I quietly shifted toward the edge of the bed, slipping out of his embrace. "Gavin, let's break up. Im not joking."

His body went rigid for a second, but then he pulled me back, locking his arms around me. He buried his face in my hair. "Summer, stop it. I know I shouldn't have stayed out this late. But shes my employee, and she has no one else in this city. I couldn't just abandon her."

Another cheap excuse. But I didn't care enough to argue.

He let out a heavy, weary sigh, his voice softening. "Summer, weve been together for ten years. How many ten-year stretches do we get in a lifetime? You know youre the most important person in my life. There is nothing going on between Amber and me."

"Its not about her," I interrupted. "Im just tired, Gavin. Its over."

If it wasn't Amber, it would be someone else. When the love is gone, there is no point in pretending to hold on.

Gavins patience snapped, and he sat up abruptly. "Summer! Why are you acting like a child over a little girl? Ive already told you, youre the only woman Ill ever marry!"

His eyes flashed with annoyance. He was done trying to soothe me; the facade was slipping.

When we lived in that basement, he would save the best pieces of meat from his instant noodles for me, promising a beautiful future. Now, his company was public, the basement had been replaced by a sprawling villa, and his old bicycle had turned into a Porsche.

And Gavin had become the very type of man we used to despise: arrogant, cold, and drunk on power.

Was I supposed to be grateful that he hadn't discarded me yet?

"Gavin, you still don't get it," I said quietly. "I have absolutely no interest in being your wife anymore."

He stared at me, stunned for a few seconds, before his anger boiled over. "Summer, I have an exhausting job and massive responsibilities! Don't try to use these petty threats to control me!"

He threw his hands up. "Compared to the other guys in my circle, Im a saint. At least I haven't replaced you!"

Even though I had already detached myself, his words still cut like a knife. It was proof that in his eyes, I was merely an object: an old appliance past its warranty, kept around out of sheer habit.

He took a long, sharp breath. "Ambers right. A woman whos never had to survive in the real business world just doesn't get it. You have nothing better to do than throw tantrums."

He stood up, grabbing his pillow. "Take some time to cool your head. Im sleeping in the guest room."

I lay in the center of the massive bed, watching the city lights outside slowly fade into the gray light of dawn.

The tears on my face had dried, leaving a tight, cold sensation. Did this man, who had lived with me for a decade, actually know me at all?

He had no idea that I had built my own art studio and opened a gallery. He honestly believed I was just a kept bird, spending his money and waiting around for his return.

It was almost laughable. Legally, his company and this villa had nothing to do with me. Yet he kept insisting he did it all for my sake.

The next morning, I began sorting through my things, ready to purge my life of the past.

Our college photos, the old dance trophies, the portrait sessions we had done years ago. I realized with a sudden jolt that for the last five years, we hadn't accumulated a single shared item.

Gavin came out of the guest room, dressed for work. He stopped when he saw the boxes scattered across the floor.

"What are you doing with all this old junk?"

Youre the junk, I wanted to say. But instead, I kept my voice neutral. "Theyre just memories of our youth."

But those memories had died years ago. People change. The love we had back then was real, but so was the cold indifference of the present.

A smug smile returned to his face. "Im glad youre finally being reasonable. See? Ten years of history. We have too much to throw away. Be a good girl, and once this busy season is over, I promise Ill give you the most beautiful wedding."

He leaned down to press a brief kiss to my cheek. "Don't worry, Summer. Youll always be the most important person to me."

His steps were light as he walked toward the door, clearly believing the storm had blown over.

"Gavin!" I called out.

He turned back, his eyes carrying that familiar, easy smile. Ten years ago, he had looked at me the exact same way, pulling a cheap bouquet of roses from behind his back: a gesture that had cost him his entire weeks food budget.

Summer, will you be my girlfriend? I promise to love you forever.

I stood up, meeting his gaze with absolute clarity. "Gavin, Im tired. Let's break up."

The smile vanished from his face, replaced by a cold, familiar mask of superiority. "It seems you still haven't cleared your head! I won't be coming back for the next few days. Ive clearly spoiled you too much."

The heavy front door slammed shut, the sound vibrating through my chest. It didn't hurt.

My phone lit up with a text from Becca.

Summer! Look at what this little snake just posted! She is literally declaring war!

A screenshot popped up.

It was a selfie of Amber, her collar pulled down slightly to expose her bare shoulder. In the background was our kitchen, where a man wearing my pink apron was busy over a simmering pot of soup.

Her caption read:

Its pouring outside, but the bosss homemade soup keeps me warm.

The comments below were nauseating:

Amber, youre so lucky! I had no idea the CEO could cook!

She gets all the special treatment because she deserves it!

There were dozens of likes. Most of them were people who had been with Gavin since the startup days. They all knew about our ten-year relationship. But in their eyes, I had already become invisible.

I replied to Becca:

Its fine. Gavin and I broke up.

Becca replied instantly:

Good! That trash doesn't deserve you anyway!

It took me less than half a day to pack my life into boxes. A decade of devotion, reduced to a few cardboard cartons.

Later that afternoon, I carried the old keepsakes to the backyard incinerator. As the flames took hold, the remnants of my youth turned into ash.

Gavin began a silent war of cold shoulder.

In the past, he would text me his schedule every day. Now, our chat was a desert of silence.

Over the next week, I arranged for my belongings to be shipped to my new place and bought myself a new car: a clean start so I could leave whenever I wanted.

The first message I received after a week of silence came from Amber, using Gavins phone.