Indulgence

After we got back together, I shed all the bad habits Seraphina hated.
The constant check-ins, the baseless jealousy, the petty score-keeping—all gone. I was a new man.
So new, in fact, that when I found a pair of lace panties that weren't mine on the passenger seat floor, I just calmly picked them up and set them aside for her.
But Seraphina’s face hardened, and she slammed on the brakes, the car lurching to a halt.

1
Seraphina Rankin was a striking woman. With her sharp, aristocratic brow and vividly beautiful features, she radiated an alpha's intensity. But right now, pinching the bridge of her nose, she just looked exhausted.
"They're Gilderoy's," she said, her voice strained. "The client dinner ran late last night. He took a few drinks for me and was in no state to drive, so I gave him a ride." She paused, forcing herself through an explanation she clearly disdained. "He got sick in the car, so he changed in here. I keep a spare set of clothes in the trunk."
She looked at me, her gaze unwavering. "I've told you a million times, Asher. He's the son of a family associate. I have to look out for him. That's it. There was never anything between us, there isn't now, and there never will be."
My silence seemed to unnerve her. A rare crack appeared in her usual composure, a flicker of helplessness I’d never seen on her face before. "What do I have to do to make you believe me?"
"I do believe you," I said calmly. "I'm not mad."
My words landed like a fist punching a cloud. Her expression went blank for a split second. "...Then why have you been quiet this whole ride?"
I glanced at my watch, mentally calculating the time to the airport. "You once said you hated pointless chatter," I deflected. "And I'm about to be late for work. Why don't you just drop me off at this corner?"
My eyes were on the traffic, completely missing the way her face darkened.
"You always get off at the next light." Her voice was low, suspicious. "The office is still two miles from here."
I hadn't thought of that. Trapped, I met her searching gaze. "It's early. If you're not going to the office, where are you going?"
Just as the doubt in her eyes began to crystallize...
Ding—!
The custom ringtone. Gilderoy’s ringtone.
Seraphina’s interrogation instantly ceased. Her eyes darted away, a tell-tale sign of guilt. "It's a work call. I need to take this." She immediately unlocked the doors, all suspicion of me forgotten. "You can get out here."
I nodded and quickly unbuckled my seatbelt, but she stopped me.
"Don't be so reckless. Watch the road when you're walking." Her voice softened, taking on a placating tone she sometimes used. "That restaurant you wanted to try? I made a reservation." Her gaze met mine in the rearview mirror. "I promised you I would never miss another anniversary. Happy seventh, Asher. I'll see you tonight."
My hand froze on the door handle.
Last year, on our anniversary, she'd left me for Gilderoy. The memory, once a source of searing pain, now felt distant, stirring nothing within me.
"You should get that," I said softly, my voice barely a whisper. "Don't keep him waiting."
After all, Gilderoy couldn't be kept waiting.
And neither could my flight.
As for our anniversary… this year, next year, and every year after, I would be absent.

2
I made it to the airport just in time.
Once seated on the plane, a wave of dizziness washed over me; I’d skipped breakfast in my rush. My hand instinctively went to my pocket, and sure enough, my fingers closed around three small chocolates.
Ever since I fainted from low blood sugar once, a long time ago, Seraphina had made it a habit to slip a few pieces of chocolate into my pocket every morning.
The sweetness melted on my tongue, and the dizziness began to fade. But it was quickly followed by a lingering, cloying bitterness that coated my throat.
Seven years together. How had Seraphina and I ended up here?
At first, I truly believed Gilderoy was just a nepotism hire she had to accommodate because of his family connections. I told myself that was why she was so strictly professional with me at work while giving him special treatment.
Rhonda, a senior manager in our department, constantly made my life hell with no consequences. But the moment she was slightly rude to Gilderoy, she was fired. Behind my back, everyone—knowing I was Seraphina’s secret boyfriend—had a nickname for Gilderoy: "the future Mr. Rankin."
I forced myself to accept her reasons, but then the "special treatment" bled into our home life. Time and again, she would drop everything we were doing to answer his call, to go to him.
The explosion finally came one night.
I was scrolling through a private work chat when a photo popped up. It was Seraphina, who had told me she was working late, with Gilderoy at a midnight movie screening. It was the very movie I had begged her to see with me, only to be flatly rejected.
I had cupped her face, my eyes shining with hope. "Everyone says you're supposed to see this with the one you love! Your one true love! We have to go."
Seraphina hadn't even bothered to look up from her laptop. "Watching that kind of sappy romance is a waste of life," she'd said.
But in the photo, she was the picture of tenderness, smiling warmly at him, without a hint of impatience.
The messages in the chat flew by, blurring before my eyes.
When Seraphina came home, I asked her, my voice devoid of emotion, "How was The Last Vow?"
A flicker of surprise—or maybe I imagined it—crossed her eyes. More likely, it was nothing. Indifference. "Were you following me?"
My heart felt like it was being smothered by a heavy, wet towel. I couldn't breathe. "Do I need to? That sweet little picture of you two is already making the rounds in the company group chat!"
My chest heaved, my breath coming in ragged gasps. "Seraphina, if you want to break up, just say it! You don't have to lie to me like this!"
Her expression didn't change. She was as calm as a spectator at a play. "If you don't have even the most basic trust in me, then there's nothing more to say. I've had a long day, Asher. I don't have the energy to fight with you."
No guilt. No explanation.
Compared to my wretched state, she was the epitome of grace. She even remembered to carefully place the paper bag she was holding on the table.
The words "The Last Vow" on the bag were like razor-sharp shards of ice, stabbing straight through my heart. Every suppressed emotion, every ounce of resentment, crashed down on me at once, finally snapping the last thread of my sanity.
I snatched the bag and, in a fit of rage, hurled it to the floor.
It wasn't sealed. The contents scattered, rolling across the hardwood with a series of soft thuds. I didn't even look. My eyes, red and burning, were locked on hers.
We stared at each other, locked in a silent standoff.
A moment later, she turned and slammed the door behind her.
I stood frozen, a statue of despair. It wasn't until something small rolled to a stop against my foot that I finally moved.
I looked down, my breath catching in my throat.
It was chocolate.
The floor was covered in round, handmade chocolates.

3
My resolve softened. I wanted to talk to her, to fix this.
But for three whole days, Seraphina didn't answer my calls. She didn't come home. Swallowing my pride, I sent her a text.
"I was wrong to lose my temper without talking to you first."
"But it's also true that you said you were working late, but you were with him at the movies."
"Tonight is our sixth anniversary. I'll be waiting for you at home."
"Can we please just sit down and talk this out?"
I waited from morning until night, but she never came. As the clock neared eleven, I decided I had to go to her. I would find her at the office.
On my way there, I ran into Rhonda, the manager Seraphina had fired over Gilderoy.
She grabbed me, dragging me into a dark alley. "That bitch! I don't dare touch Ms. Rankin's precious boy, but I can sure as hell touch you!"
My unanswered calls, my desperate cries for help—they were all useless. If a bystander hadn't happened to pass by and scare her off, I would have been left with far more than a bruised face and a split lip.
When my phone suddenly rang, I screamed, a raw, terrified sound ripped from my throat. I was a cornered animal.
But then I saw the name on the screen, and the tension that had held my spine rigid all night finally crumbled. A wave of near-hysterical relief washed over me. "Sera—" I sobbed.
"Hello?"
Gilderoy’s smooth, cheerful voice came through the line. "Sera's in the shower right now," he chirped. "I saw you'd called a few times. Who is this? Is it important?"
It felt like a hot coal had been shoved down my throat, searing the flesh, melting it away. The pain was so intense I wanted to carve out my own vocal cords. The simple act of hanging up the phone seemed to take every last bit of my strength.
I limped to the nearest police station to file a report, a pathetic, broken figure.
By the time it was all over, the clock showed 12:01 AM. A new day.
That's when Seraphina finally called.
Her voice was as imperious as ever. "Have you learned your lesson?"
And in that instant, I understood. She had done it on purpose. All those unanswered calls on our anniversary... it was my punishment for not trusting her enough.
Tears streamed down my swollen face, stinging my wounds like acid. When I finally spoke, my voice was a raw, broken rasp.
"Seraphina," I said. "Let's break up."
There was only a second of silence on the other end. Then, a cold laugh. "Fine. Don't you come crying back to me."
She hung up without another word. She agreed to end it all, without a shred of hesitation.

4
At first, it was just the sleeplessness.
I'd lie awake for hours, replaying every detail of our life together, terrified I had misjudged her, that I had condemned her unfairly. I reread our old messages, searching for clues, for anything. But the more I looked, the more the pain and resentment grew.
I started to hate her.
Six years. Six entire years of my life. I hated her for tossing me aside like a piece of trash, for being so utterly unaffected.
At 4 AM one morning, consumed by grief, I deleted her from every app, every contact list. I dragged myself out of bed and, in a fury, gathered all her belongings—every last thing that reminded me of her. I stuffed them into giant trash bags and heaved them into the dumpster below.
When it was done, I thought I would feel relief. But it was like I had finally swatted a mosquito that had been tormenting me for weeks, only to find that the blood splattered on the wall was my own.
I went to work on time, acting as if nothing had happened. But only I knew that a huge chunk of my heart had been gouged out. Seraphina had grown there, but the flesh had turned rotten. To survive, I had to carve that putrid piece of me away. I just forgot that a wound that large is fatal, too.
The full force of my emotional collapse hit me when I saw her at a company-wide meeting. Seraphina was as poised and self-assured as ever. In fact, she seemed even more vibrant, more powerful. It was as if losing me had no effect on her at all.
Across the room, Gilderoy shot her a look he thought was secret, a faint blush coloring his cheeks.
I stopped sleeping entirely. I couldn't keep any food down. Seraphina didn't use social media, so I became obsessed with stalking Gilderoy's accounts, dissecting every post, every cryptic quote for any mention of her.
It ended with me collapsing from hypoglycemia at work and being rushed to the hospital.
That's when Seraphina deigned to visit me. It was the twenty-ninth day since our breakup.
She casually twirled the matching couple's ring on her finger, admiring her manicure. "You've lost weight, Asher."
My gaze was empty. I opened my mouth, a hollowed-out puppet. "I'm sorry."
A triumphant smile spread across her face.
And just like that, we were back together.

5
They say it's better to rip the bandage off quickly.
But that doesn't work for everyone. For someone with a weak will, the best method is a slow, quiet withdrawal.
You keep the person in the same place in your life, but you gradually, deliberately, stop expecting anything from them. You boil your own heart, slowly. The process isn't so difficult that way. The end isn't so painful.
In the beginning, when I first started pretending to be magnanimous, my heart would still ache with a dull throb. But Seraphina seemed pleased with the change. She'd stroke my head, the way you'd pet a well-behaved dog, a small smile playing on her lips. "You've grown up, Asher."
After about six months of this self-prescribed therapy, it started to work. I truly became the person she wanted me to be.
She'd stay out all night, and I wouldn't call. Whatever she was doing with Gilderoy, I no longer asked.
By the time I realized what had happened, that rotten piece of my heart had fallen away on its own, like overripe fruit dropping from a branch.
I paused for a moment, then smiled.
I immediately sent my resume to a company in France. They'd made me an offer once before, but I'd turned it down to stay with Seraphina.
Luckily, they still wanted me. My flight was booked for two weeks from now. I had no intention of telling her. Our relationship had always been disposable to her anyway.
The more understanding and agreeable I became, the less happy Seraphina seemed to be. I brushed it off, thinking I was imagining things, and continued working late as usual.
One night, I came home, ready for a shower, when she stopped me.
Her eyes lifted slowly to meet mine. "Is there anything you want to tell me lately?"
I yawned, shaking my head in confusion. "No. What's up?"
"Nothing," she said, her voice flat. "Go on."
But I soon learned that something was, indeed, up.
Later that night, she wrapped her arms around me from behind, her breath hot against my neck. Her whispers were as soft as feathers, but her touch was bruising, like an interrogation.
"Gilderoy's been giving you a hard time at work, making you work all this overtime. Why didn't you tell me, hm?"
Her grip on me was relentless, a punishing rhythm that left me breathless. I had no idea what she was so angry about. All I could do was gasp for mercy. "Work is work... personal is personal... I-I'm being good."
Years ago, my old manager Rhonda—the one who assaulted me—was constantly sabotaging me. Once, she made me the scapegoat for a massive error. In a meeting with hundreds of people, Seraphina had torn into me without mercy. "Even an idiot wouldn't make a mistake like this."
That night, I'd choked back my frustration. "You can check the email records. Why wouldn't you even let me explain in the meeting?"
Her face was a mask, just as it had been at the office. "Work is work, personal is personal. Asher, I only care about results. At the company, I'm your boss, not your girlfriend. I can't play favorites."
But two days later, Rhonda was fired. The reason? She had been rude to Gilderoy.
I was a top performer, consistently exceeding my targets. When Rhonda was gone, everyone assumed I would get the promotion.
But instead, Seraphina promoted Gilderoy, who wasn't even out of his probationary period. He took Rhonda's position and became my boss.
...
Now, here I was, finally understanding my place. I wasn't causing trouble. I wasn't emotional. I was keeping work and our personal life separate.
At my words, Seraphina’s movements froze. She released me.
The light in the room was too bright. I covered my eyes, a physiological tear escaping from the corner. She tried to pull my hand away.
I tried to resist, but I was too weak. "What are you doing?"
She pried my hand from my face and stared into my eyes, her voice laced with a strange insistence. "You used to look at me."
I had no idea what had gotten into her. Annoyed, I met her gaze.
In that instant, a flicker of anxiety, of pure panic, crossed her face. She suddenly covered my eyes with her own hand, as if shielding me from something.
Then she leaned down and kissed me, murmuring my name over and over again, a desperate chant.
"Asher. Asher."

6
The next day, Seraphina called Gilderoy into a meeting and demanded a full report on his department's progress. Of course, I had done all the work, and Gilderoy just stood there, stammering, unable to answer a single question.
"If you can't even speak to the basic functions of your role," Seraphina said, her face an emotionless mask, "then perhaps you shouldn't be in it."
The entire conference room was dead silent. You could have heard a pin drop.
Gilderoy clapped a hand over his mouth and ran out of the room, sobbing.
After the meeting, the breakroom on our floor was buzzing.
"God, did you see the boss's face today?"
"You think the 'future Mr. Rankin' is about to be dethroned?"
The gossip flew thick and fast. I was quietly making a cup of instant coffee when someone nudged me. "Aurora, why so quiet?"
My English name at the new company was Aurora. It was a fresh start. Here, back in my old life, I was Asher. The code-switch was jarring.
"Man, you've got nerves of steel," the colleague continued. "The way Ms. Rankin laid into you that one time... you didn't even flinch!"
Honestly, I couldn't care less about their drama. But in a den of gossiping coworkers, silence is betrayal. It would make me a target.
So, I played along with a laugh. "Hey, I'm just a corporate drone. How can I compare to the heir apparent? Besides, lovers' quarrels are just foreplay. A little drama is the ultimate spice for an office romance." I fumbled with my mug as someone playfully shoved me. "Hey, knock it off."
Lowering my head to steady the ceramic cup, I added for good measure, "They're a perfect match, honestly. Talented, beautiful... you know what? I'm totally shipping them."
Only after the words left my mouth did I notice the breakroom had fallen into an eerie, unnatural silence.
I looked up.
And met Seraphina’s glacial stare.

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