Let Him Walk

This was the third time Lucas forgot my birthday.

I didn't throw a fit. Instead, I quietly cooked my favorite meal and bought an expensive ice cream cake I'd normally never splurge on. It was a quiet celebration for a day that apparently mattered to no one but me.

But when I stepped out of the shower, ready to finally enjoy my evening, I found the kitchen ransacked. The dinner I'd spent three hours preparing had been packed into insulated containers. Beside them, my cake lay ruined, half-smashed and melting on the counter.

Lucas finally looked up.

"Kate hasn't eaten all day," he said, barely glancing at me as he zipped up the insulated bag. "Her blood sugar crashed. I'm taking this to her. Don't wait up."

I watched his retreating back, the door clicking shut behind him. In that silent apartment, a cold certainty settled over me. I was done waiting.

Minutes after Lucas left, our landlord knocked on the door.

Mrs. Gable stood on the threshold, peering into the quiet apartment. "The lease is up at the end of the month," she said. "Are you two renewing or moving out? I need to know so I can list it if you're leaving."

Last month, I had asked Lucas if we should renew or look for a new place. At the time, his head had been bent over his phone, furiously typing a reply to Kate. When he finally looked up, his voice was laced with easy dismissal. "Whatever you want, babe. You decide."

Remembering his indifference, I looked at Mrs. Gable and said, "We won't be renewing. We'll be out by the end of the month. You can send the security deposit back to Lucas. No need to send it to me."

He had paid the initial deposit and the first month's rent when we moved in. It was only fair he got it back.

Mrs. Gable frowned in confusion. "But you two are getting married, aren't you? Why keep the finances so separate? It's all the same pocket, dear."

I just offered a polite, empty smile and said nothing.

Satisfied with the answer, she turned to leave, pausing to add, "Just make sure the place is completely cleared out before you hand over the keys. I want it clean for the next tenants."

I nodded. "Of course. I'll make sure of it."

Today was the twenty-eighth. I had exactly three days.

I pulled out my phone and messaged a local leasing agent who had helped me before. He replied almost instantly, asking if I was still looking for a two-bedroom apartment for the two of us.

"Just a one-bedroom," I typed back. "Just for me."

The typing bubbles danced for a long time before his reply came through: Did you guys break up?

The words made my chest ache with a dull, familiar numbness. When Lucas and I first started dating, the concept of breaking up felt impossible. Back then, my mind was constantly painting pictures of our future. Now, I couldn't even remember the last time I had let myself hope.

I bypassed his question. He sent another message: Need a moving company? I know a reliable one.

"Yes, please," I replied.

When's the move?

"Three days from now," I answered. Just enough time to pack up my life, let the lease run out, and quietly slip out of Lucas's world forever.

I confirmed the details and began pulling empty cardboard boxes from the closet. That was when my phone buzzed. It was Lucas.

"Hey, Kate loved the food you made," his voice came through the speaker, casual and demanding. "But her stomach is acting up now. Can you whip up a light soup and bring it over?"

Before I could even draw a breath, he added, "And don't put any green onions in it. She hates the smell."

I stared at the cardboard box in front of me, a heavy silence stretching over the line. "Lucas," I whispered, "do you know what today is?"

In our five years together, he had only celebrated my birthday twice.

The first time, he took me to Disneyland. Under the burst of midnight fireworks, he had slipped a delicate heart-shaped necklace around my neck and promised to love me forever.

The second time, I was away on a business trip. He had flown out to surprise me, holding a slightly lopsided cake he'd baked himself. I still remembered the warmth of his breath against my ear as he whispered, "Jane, no matter where you are, if you need me, I'll be there."

But by the third year, his promises evaporated. My birthday, May thirtieth, became nothing more to him than the anniversary of the day he met Kate twenty-three years ago.

Just as I expected, there wasn't a second of hesitation in his voice. "It's the anniversary of the day Kate and I met. Why?"

Getting the exact answer I anticipated, I did something I had never done before. I hung up on him.

There was no panic, no hot rush of tears. Just a vast, cold expanse of nothingness.

I looked back at the ruined ice cream cake on the counter. It was melting into a sugary puddle, losing its shape. Just like our relationship. I had once believed what we had was indestructible, but over time, it had quietly dissolved into nothing.

I set my phone face down and went back to packing.

Lucas didn't come home until the next afternoon. When he walked in, his shoulders were slumped, and a faint flicker of guilt crossed his face.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, stepping closer and reaching for my hand. "I realized I forgot your birthday. I know you've been wanting a little car to commute to work, so I went to the dealership today and picked one out for you. Consider it your makeup gift."

I opened my mouth to speak, but he cut me off, a proud smile warming his tone. "Kate was the one who reminded me, actually. You should thank her when you see her. She helped me pick it out. She was so sure you'd love it."

Of course. It wasn't his memory that had saved him, but Kate's. Even my birthday present was curated by her taste. And I was supposed to be grateful, to smile and accept the crumbs of their shared life.

He unlocked his phone, scrolling through his gallery to show me the car. "See? Kate picked pink. She said it's perfect for girls..."

I looked at the screen. But as his finger swiped to the next photo, my heart went completely still. It wasn't a picture of the car. It was Kate, sitting in the driver's seat of the pink sedan, winking and sticking her tongue out at the camera.

Lucas cleared his throat, quickly swiping past it. "Kate wanted to take a selfie, but her phone was dead, so she used mine."

Without saying a word, I took the phone from his hand and swiped backward. There were three hundred and twenty-three photos in his recent album. One hundred and twenty of them were of Kate. Only three were of the car.

A bitter irony settled in my chest. Lucas had always claimed he hated taking photos. He despised clutter on his phone. In five years, we didn't have a single photograph together. My contact info wasn't even saved under my name in his phonebook. It was as if I was a ghost in his life.

When I had asked him about it years ago, he had kissed my forehead and laughed. "I know your number by heart, Jane. I could recite it in my sleep. Why would I need to save it?"

Yet, Kate was saved in his contacts as "Lucky Pig." On every social media platform, her chat was pinned to the top.

I kept scrolling through the messages in silence. Lucas didn't stop me. Instead, he chuckled, leaning against the counter. "Are you checking up on me? Go ahead. You won't find anything suspicious."

Before he could finish the sentence, a notification popped up from "Lucky Pig."

Lucas! You can't be biased! You can't forget about me just because you have a girlfriend. If Jane gets a car, I want one too! Buy me one right now!

The screen blurred slightly. I lost all interest, locking the phone and handing it back to him.

Lucas took it, immediately typing a reply. I stood up from the couch and caught a glimpse of his screen as I walked away.

The company's cash flow is a bit tight this month. I'll owe you one, okay?

Kate wasn't having it. She bombarded him with a flurry of crying and begging emojis.

I saw the hesitation in Lucas's eyes as he looked up at me. "Jane," he began, his voice soft and coaxing. "Our apartment isn't that far from your office anyway. Would it be okay if we let Kate have this car first? I'll buy you another one next month."

It was just like last month, when we had planned a movie night. We were standing in front of the theater when Kate called, complaining she was lonely and wanted him to go swimming with her.

He had looked at me with that exact same apologetic, pleading expression. "Jane, let's skip the movie tonight. I'll make it up to you next time, I promise."

In the silent battle between Kate and me, she always won. I hadn't argued back then. After he left, I bought a tub of popcorn and a soda, walking into the dark theater alone for the first time in my life.

That night, I realized two things: going to the movies alone wasn't terrifying at all, and giving up on things that were never truly yours was actually quite easy.

"Sure," I said now, my voice entirely flat. "Do whatever you want."

The tension drained from his shoulders instantly. He let out a relieved sigh. "I knew you'd understand. Kate's such a handful sometimes, always acting like a spoiled brat."

He sounded like he was complaining, but the warmth in his voice betrayed his absolute indulgence.

What he didn't realize was that I wasn't being understanding. I had just stopped caring.

"By the way," Lucas said, pocketing his phone. "Kate said there's a new hot pot place downtown. She wants to buy us dinner."

I opened my mouth to decline, but he held up his hands defensively. "Come on, if we don't go, she threatened to buy the groceries and cook at our place."

I hated the lingering smell of hot pot in our small apartment. More than that, I hated the subtle scent of gardenias that clung to Katethe exact same scent Lucas had started wearing.

Twenty minutes later, we were sitting in a booth at the crowded restaurant. The waiter walked over to take our order.

"A mild broth" Lucas started, but I cut him off. "Let's do half spicy, half mild."

He stared at me, surprised. "Since when do you eat spicy food?"

I didn't eat spicy food because he had a sensitive stomach, and over five years, I had adapted my palate to match his. "I've always liked it," I said, looking down at the menu. "You just never noticed."

I checked the boxes for the dishes I actually liked and added a matcha shaved ice for dessert. Seeing this, Kate immediately chirped, "I want a mango shaved ice too!"

Lucas frowned, swatting her menu down. "Are you crazy? Have you forgotten how much pain you were in last month? No cold drinks for you."

He crossed out her shaved ice and replaced it with warm corn juice.

Kate pouted, but a pleased smile played on her lips. "So what if it hurts? Your hands are warmer than any heating pad anyway. Why should I worry when I have you?"

Once, I used to get terrible cramps too. Lucas used to stock up on heating pads and brew hot herbal tea for me. When I writhed in pain, his eyes would turn red with worry. He would press his warm palms against my lower back, his voice trembling as he whispered, I wish I could take the pain for you, sweetheart.

Back then, I had felt exactly like Kate did. As long as he was there, I could handle any pain. But since Kate moved to our city, my nightstand was never restocked with heating pads. There were no more warm mugs waiting for me on the counter.

Sitting across from them, watching them flirt in plain sight, I felt like a ghost haunting their happy little world.

Just then, the waiter returned, placing a large boba tea with two straws in the center of the table. "Compliments of the house," he smiled. "It's our owners' tenth anniversary, so we're giving out free sharing drinks to all the couples tonight."