Replacing Me Took A Hundred Days

Lauren was allergic to romance.

Ever since we got together, anniversaries were just another square on the calendar. I did my thing, she did hers. So on our seventh anniversary, when my phone stayed silent all day, I didnt think twice about it. I was used to the quiet.

But when she came home that night, she did something completely out of character. She handed me a small, wrapped box.

I froze for a couple of seconds, my eyes instantly stinging with a sudden, ridiculous warmth. The stubborn, practical woman I loved had finally turned a corner.

I eagerly took a dozen photos of the box, trying to find the perfect angle to post on my Instagram. But right before I hit upload, my feed refreshed.

It was a post from her new personal assistant, Tony.

"100 days at the firm! Thank you so much for the sweet surprise, Boss~"

In the photo, the handsome, sharp-featured kid was standing next to an open car trunk overflowing with beautifully wrapped gifts, fairy lights, and expensive-looking boutique bags.

When I tapped the live photo, the sound of Laurens voice played. It was soft, carrying a rare, gentle laugh I hadnt heard in years: "It suits you."

I looked down at the cheap, flimsy five-dollar plastic trinket in my handthe kind of throwaway item you buy in bulk off Temu.

Suddenly, the last seven years felt entirely pointless.

My phone buzzed on the coffee table.

It was a string of texts from my close friend, Zach. You could practically feel his excitement vibrating through the screen.

Did Lauren finally turn a corner???

Seven years! A literal miracle!

I know the box looks a little small, but a gift is a gift! She finally learned how to be romantic.

I let out a dry, humorless laugh and forwarded him Tonys Instagram post.

This is what she gave her assistant today.

Zachs side of the chat went dead silent for a few seconds. Then, a barrage of question marks and exclamation points flooded my screen.

That new kid, Tony?

Doesnt he know about you and Lauren?

She bought him an entire trunk full of gifts?!

Are you kidding me? This is messed up, Matt.

I stared at the messages, a slow, aching burn rising in my throat.

In the past, whenever Zach tried to stick up for me, Id always scramble to make excuses for her. Shes stressed. She doesnt think about these things. She didnt mean any harm.

But this time, I couldn't find a single word to defend her.

When Lauren came out of the shower, I was still sitting on the sofa. She rubbed her damp hair with a towel, glanced at the unopened gift on the coffee table, and then looked at me.

"Why aren't you in bed yet?"

Instead of answering, I opened Tonys post and held the screen out to her. "Did you buy him this?"

She barely glanced at it, her expression entirely flat. "The kid reached his hundred-day mark. I wanted to keep his morale up."

I stared at her indifferent, casual posture and spoke softly. "Lauren, do you know what today is?"

The hand drying her hair paused. "What?"

"Our seventh anniversary."

The room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence.

Lauren looked at me, a flicker of irritation crossing her features. "Matt, really? We're not in college anymore. Why are you suddenly obsessing over these trivial things? Can't we just focus on building our lives together?"

She draped the towel over her shoulders and turned to walk away.

Watching her retreating back, I called out, my voice barely above a whisper. "Lauren, Im turning thirty next month."

She stopped.

"Most of my friends are already settling down, having kids. When... when are we getting married?"

She sighed, turning back to face me with a pinched, exhausted expression. "The company is in a critical growth phase right now. Just give it some time."

"How much more time?"

Lauren didn't answer. She pinched the bridge of her nose, her face darkening. "Matt, I had an incredibly long day. Stop starting fights."

With that, she walked into the bedroom and shut the door behind her.

I sat alone on the dark sofa, staring at the cheap box on the table. The wrapping paper was wrinkled and torn at the edges, looking like something pulled from a clearance bin.

Late that night, my dad called me from London.

"Hey, Matty. You still up?"

"Yeah, Dad."

"I just wanted to check in. Have you thought any more about what we talked about last time?"

I gripped the phone, staying silent.

Five years ago, my parents had relocated to the UK for my dad's work. They had begged me to come with them. But because of Lauren, I had stubbornly insisted on staying behind.

For seven years, I had stayed by her side. I was there when we lived in a cramped, drafty studio apartment, and I was there when we moved into this luxury high-rise. I had helped her build her company from a tiny, two-person operation into a thriving business.

I had always told myself that once the hard part was over, marriage would be our natural next step. But looking at the closed bedroom door, I realized I had been lying to myself the entire time.

"Matty?" my dad's voice was gentle, filled with a quiet concern. "Don't take this the wrong way, son. But if she wanted to marry you, she would have done it years ago. She wouldn't keep you waiting in the wings for seven years."

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "I know, Dad. Give me a few days. Ill make a decision."

After hanging up, I sat in the quiet living room for what felt like hours before finally heading into the bedroom. Lauren was already fast asleep.

I carefully climbed into my side of the bed, turning onto my side to look at her.

When we first started dating, she had nothing. Every time she got paid, the first thing she did was transfer her paycheck to my account so we could save. If I hesitated to buy something for myself because of the price, she would drag me back to the store and buy it anyway. She wasn't big on sweet talk, but her actions always made me feel like I was her entire world.

I had never doubted her love for me.

Until Tony arrived.

One hundred days was all it took to dismantle seven years of devotion.

The next morning, the office was buzzing when I arrived. A small crowd of coworkers had gathered around Tonys desk.

"Come on, Tony, what was that post about last night?"

"An entire trunk! The boss really went all out for you."

"Spill the details. Is there something going on between you two?"

Tony cupped his hands over his red cheeks, his voice dripping with performative shyness. "Oh my god, guys, stop! Don't make assumptions. Lauren was just celebrating my hundredth day at the firm, that's all."

"Oh, really? Then why didn't the rest of us get a trunk full of gifts on our hundredth day?"

"Exactly!"

The teasing grew louder. Tony caught my eye from across the room. A small, smug smile touched his lips, but he quickly looked down, playing the part of the innocent junior.

Just then, Lauren walked out of her corner office. Ignoring the knowing looks exchange among the staff, she gestured to Tony.

"Tony, in my office, please."

"Right away, Lauren!" Tony piped up, practically skipping toward her door.

Once the door clicked shut, a few colleagues drifted over to my desk. "Hey, Matt. Youve been with the company since the beginning. Whats the actual deal with Lauren and Tony?"

I kept my eyes on my monitor. "I wouldn't know."

They looked disappointed but didn't push further, quickly moving on to whisper about something else.

I gripped the folder in my hands, a familiar tightness squeezing my chest.

Lauren had always been incredibly sensitive about keeping her professional life professional. For years, we had kept our relationship strictly underground to avoid office gossip.

Once, early on, I had left a homemade sandwich on her desk because I knew she had skipped breakfast. She had lost her temper, accusing me of being unprofessional, and didn't speak to me for an entire week. From that moment on, I kept my distance. We never rode in the same elevator, never ate lunch together, and barely made eye contact in the hallways.

But apparently, those rigid rules didn't apply to Tony.

It was a grueling day, and by the time I finished wrapping up my work, it was nearly midnight. The trains had stopped running.

After a moment of hesitation, I swallowed my pride and walked down to the parking garage, hoping to catch a ride with Lauren.

But as I reached her SUV, the elevator doors slid open. Lauren walked out, and right behind her was Tony.

When she saw me standing there, she froze, her brow furrowing immediately. "What are you still doing here?"

My voice was quiet, stripped of any emotion. "I had to finish the quarterly reports. I missed the last train."

She stared at me for a couple of seconds before letting out a sharp sigh. "Get in."

The headlights flickered on. I walked over to the passenger side and reached for the door handle.

But before my hand could make contact, Tony slipped right in front of me and pulled the door open, sliding into the front seat.

"Oh, sorry, Matt," Tony said, blinking up at me with an innocent, wide-eyed look. "Lauren promised me I could always have shotgun. My motion sickness is really bad at night."

My hand hovered over the empty handle. I didn't move.

Lauren tapped the horn, her face tight with impatience through the windshield.

I let go of the handle, walked to the back, and silently got into the rear seat.

The SUV merged into the late-night traffic. Tony chattered the entire way, his voice high and animated.

"Lauren, that client today was so hilarious, he kept telling the worst dad jokes..."

"Oh, and did you see that new sushi place that opened down the street? Some of the girls said it's amazing. We should definitely try it sometime!"

Lauren offered soft, amused replies, occasionally laughing at his jokes.

I leaned my head against the cold window, watching the city lights blur into streaks of gold and red. The silence in the back seat felt like an ocean.

When we finally dropped Tony off at his apartment building, the car fell into a heavy, suffocating silence. Lauren kept her eyes on the road, driving in silence until we pulled into our garage.

She unbuckled her seatbelt and reached for the door handle, but I spoke before she could open it.

"Lauren."

She paused, turning her head slightly. "Yeah?"

I took a slow, steady breath. "Let's break up."

The air in the car turned freezing.

Lauren stared at me for a long moment, then let out a soft, dismissive chuckle, shaking her head. "Matt, are you seriously throwing a tantrum over a car seat?"

I didn't say anything.

Her tone softened slightly, condescendingly. "Tony is just a kid, and it was late. As his boss, making sure he gets home safely is just basic responsibility. Don't make a mountain out of a molehill."

I looked directly into her eyes. "Lauren, it's been seven years. Every single time I worked past midnight, I walked to the train station alone."

"That's completely different"

"How?" I interrupted, my voice cracking slightly. "Am I not allowed to want someone to care about me?"

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

"Im serious, Lauren. We're done."

Her brow furrowed, her voice sharp with irritation. "Matt, this is getting ridiculous. Are you really going to throw away seven years over this?"

I kept my gaze steady, refusing to back down.

Eventually, she sighed, reaching out to pat my cheek. Her touch felt incredibly heavy. "Fine. I'm sorry, okay? Let's just go inside. I have a flight tomorrow morning, and I need to get some sleep."

She opened her door and walked toward the elevator.

I remained in the back seat, watching her figure disappear around the corner. The last lingering ember of warmth in my chest went entirely cold.

I pulled out my phone and texted my dad.

Dad, Ive made up my mind. As soon as I wrap things up here, Im coming to London.

The reply was almost instant.

Good. Your mother and I will have everything ready for you. Just come home.

The next morning, the sound of sizzling oil woke me.

I walked into the kitchen to find Lauren standing at the stove, frying eggs. I stood in the doorway, momentarily stunned. It had been at least five years since she had cooked anything.

When she noticed me, she gestured toward a pot on the counter. "There's oatmeal. Help yourself."

Then, my eyes drifted to two neatly packed lunchboxes on the counter. "Who are those for?"

"Oh, those are for Tony," she said, her focus entirely on flipping the eggs. "He always skips breakfast, and his blood sugar drops. He's passed out at work a couple of times."

Before I could even process the words, she checked her watch and hurriedly wiped her hands on a dish towel. "Shoot, I'm going to miss my flight. I have to go."

She grabbed her suitcase by the door, then paused, stepping back to give me a brief, obligatory hug. "I'll be back in a few days. Take care of yourself."

The door clicked shut.

I stood alone in the messy kitchen. If this had been any other day, I would have immediately started cleaning up her mess.

But not today. Today, I had an appointment at the consulate.

The wait at the visa office was long, but my paperwork was processed without any issues. By the time I returned to the office, the sun was already starting to set. The hallways were quiet, most of our colleagues having already left for the day.

I knocked on the HR door. Katie was still at her desk.

"Matt? What are you doing here so late?"

"Im here to submit my resignation."

Katies jaw dropped. "What? Why? Youre a founding member of this place. Lauren was literally talking about setting up your equity package next quarter."

I offered her a polite, tired smile. "I'm ready for a change. I want to go spend some time with my family overseas."

She saw the look in my eyes and didn't press further. "Alright. If you're sure, I'll start processing it." She turned to her computer, her fingers flying across the keyboard. "Once we finish the offboarding paperwork, your last day will be next Tuesday."

I nodded. "Thank you, Katie."

As I turned to leave, I paused. "One more thing. Please keep this between us. I'd prefer if Lauren didn't know until after I'm gone."

Though confused, she gave me a reassuring nod. "Understood. I'll keep it under wraps."

Over the next few days, I threw myself into wrapping up my projects. Lauren sent me several text messages, but I left every single one of them on read.

On Friday night, I finally dragged myself back to the apartment, completely exhausted. I was just taking off my shoes when my phone rang.

It was Lauren.

I stared at her name on the screen for a long time before finally picking up.

"Matty..." her voice was thick, slurred, and carried that soft, clinging tone she only used when she was completely drunk. "I drank way too much... Can you come pick me up?"

My heart gave a painful, familiar thud. She hadn't called me "Matty" in years. Normally, it was just a blunt "Matt."

She continued to mumble into the receiver.

I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing down the sudden wave of emotion. "Send me the address. Ill be there."

The city was wrapped in a heavy midnight fog when I arrived at the restaurant.

But as I approached the entrance, my steps faltered.

Lauren was leaning heavily against Tony, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. When Tony spotted me, he stiffened, taking a hurried, awkward step back.

"Matt... I... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." his voice was panicked, his eyes wide with a performative fear, as if I were about to strike him.

The movement shook Lauren awake. She blinked, her instinct immediately driving her to step in front of the kid, shielding him from me.

"Matt, don't start with him," she mumbled, her eyes glassy.

I let out a soft, bitter laugh. Even completely wasted, her first instinct was to protect him.

Tony clutched Lauren's arm, his eyes shining with tears. "Its my fault. I shouldn't have let her drink so much. I'm so sorry, Matt."

Lauren reached up, gently patting his hair. "It's not your fault, Tony. Don't apologize to him."

Unable to watch another second of it, I stepped forward, pulling her dead weight away from him. "Lets go. Were going home."

She mumbled incoherently against my shoulder the entire ride back. I didn't say a single word.

By the time we got back to the apartment and she finished throwing up in the bathroom, she had sobered up significantly. She walked into the bedroom, a sheepish smile on her face, and tried to wrap her arms around my waist.

I stepped back, letting her arms fall into the empty air.

She blinked, confused. "What's wrong?"

I sat down on the edge of the bed, looking up at her. "Next Tuesday is my birthday. I want you to have dinner with me."

She hesitated, her eyes darting away. "I think I have a client dinner that night..."

"Lauren," I interrupted. "In seven years, you have never once spent my birthday with me."

She stared at me, the silence stretching between us. Finally, she nodded. "Okay. I'll clear my schedule."

On Tuesday evening, I put on a tailored charcoal shirtthe one she used to tell me made me look handsome.

When she walked into the restaurant and saw me, a flicker of genuine appreciation crossed her face. "You look nice tonight."

I offered a polite smile but didn't reply.

Make it special, I told myself. A proper goodbye to the last seven years.

At the table, Lauren ordered several of my favorite dishes without even looking at the menu. But then, she turned back to the waiter. "And could you prepare a duplicate order of these to-go, please?"

Seeing my questioning look, she explained, "Tony's been talking about wanting to try this place for weeks. Since we're already here, I figured Id grab some for him."

I didn't say anything. I just lowered my eyes and took a slow sip of water.

The food had barely arrived when Laurens phone lit up on the table.

She glanced at the screen, and her face immediately tightened. She set her fork down. "Theres an emergency at the office. I have to go. Go ahead and eat without me."

Without waiting for my response, she grabbed the takeout bags the waiter had just brought over and rushed out the door.

I sat alone at the table, looking at the steaming dishes. I had completely lost my appetite.

I paid the bill, walked out into the cool night air, and went home.

I spent the next hour packing my life into two suitcases. At the bottom of the closet, I found an old shoebox. Inside were all the tiny mementos I had saved over the last seven yearsmovie ticket stubs, concert wristbands, and the annual photo booth pictures I had practically begged her to take with me.

I stared at them for a few seconds, then carried the box to the trash chute and let it go.

As I was wrapping up, my phone buzzed.

It was a text from Tony. No words, just a single image.

It was a close-up of his hand. Slid onto his ring finger was the thin silver band I had given Lauren for our first anniversary.

My stomach dropped.

I stared at the screen for a long, quiet moment. Then, I reached down, slid my own matching silver band off my finger, and set it gently on the coffee table.

I took one last look at the apartment we had shared for years. There was nothing left here for me.

The airport terminal was bright and loud, filled with families and travelers rushing to their destinations. I sat at the gate, opened my phone, and went through my contacts.

One by one, I deleted and blocked Lauren's number, her social media accounts, and her email.

I was finally cutting the cord.