Why Panic When It's Too Late?

Nadine Sullivan doesn't come home to have dinner with me on my birthday. Instead, she transfers 100 dollars to me and sends me a text, saying, "I love you."

Coincidentally, a resident doctor at her hospital updates his social media with a photo. It's a screenshot of her transferring 10,000 dollars to him. She's also texted him, "I love you to the moon and back."

I don't throw a tantrum or kick up a fuss. All I do is leave the city without hesitation.

The first day after my departure, I hear that Nadine is unfazed. She says, "He'll be back after a few days."

The first month after my departure, Nadine calls me. "I'll transfer 100 thousand dollars to you, alright? Can you come back now?"

I've never wanted her money, though.

There were a few comments under Dylan Zimmer's latest post from Nadine Sullivan's friends—people I followed too.

"Damn, Nadine's really something, huh? She just casually transfers 10,000 dollars like it's nothing."

"I just saw Zayn's post. Nadine only sent him 100 dollars. It looks like Dylan means way more to her than Zayn ever did."

For a few seconds, I just stared blankly at the screen.

Earlier this morning, Nadine messaged me saying she was swamped with work and couldn't make it home to celebrate my birthday today.

Then, she transferred me 100 dollars with a message that read, "I love you."

And just like that, seven years together was made to feel like the punchline of some sick joke. In Nadine's eyes, I was only worth 100 dollars, while Dylan was worth 10,000 dollars.

Later, Dylan posted another video. This time, it was taken at a karaoke bar. Nadine was in the frame, looking into the camera with an affectionate gaze as she sang a love song.

The people around her were cheering her on.

"Nadine, you're so in love with Dylan!"

"When are you going to dump Zayn and announce your relationship with Dylan?"

The video was cut off there. I sat frozen with my phone in hand, and my heart turned heavy with something I couldn't even name. If nothing else, it was a dull, suffocating ache.

I glanced at the dining table. The dinner I spent two hours cooking was still sitting there, cold and untouched. The same could be said for the cake that I'd made from scratch.

I thought I'd spend my birthday together with Nadine. But once again, she used "work" as an excuse to ditch me for another man.

She had done this so many times over the past seven years. I was already used to it by now.

I placed my phone on the table and opened the cake box. Then, I silently took a photo of myself with it.

I posted the picture to my feed soon after. It was a little tradition of mine to document my birthday every year. This year would have been no different. I wasn't going to let anyone ruin that.

After