Matt saved a girl with no memory, and in return, she latched onto him, refusing to let go. She drove the million-dollar car he bought her to and from a job he gave her, and at night, he was the one who soothed her to sleep. For years, I believed Matt's heart was mine and mine alone. But when she appeared, it turned out he had more than enough love to go around. And the moment he chose to sacrifice my feelings for hers one last time, my love for him finally died. 1 The cake flew upwards, a sudden explosion of frosting and sponge that splattered across my face. Through the blur, I could see Matt shielding Mia in his arms. She was completely untouched. For a heartbeat, the world went silent. A warm thumb gently wiped the cream from my eyelashes. I forced my eyes open and saw the guilt and pain swimming in Matt’s. But the ache in his eyes was nothing compared to the one blooming in my chest. A thousand tiny needles pricked at my heart, so sharp that I was too slow to even push him away. The crowd began to disperse. The woman who’d caused the scene was now trembling behind her husband, the reality of her mistake dawning on her. Matt, his eyes never leaving my face, grabbed a napkin and began to meticulously clean the mess from my skin. Without even looking up, he uttered a single sentence that nearly brought the man to his knees. “Our partnership is terminated.” Behind us, the woman who had been so arrogant moments before began to beg, her pleas punctuated by her husband's furious, defeated shouts. Mia trailed behind us, trying to make herself as small as possible. She stayed silent until Matt opened the passenger door for me and was about to walk around to his side. That’s when she finally spoke. “Matt,” she whispered, her voice fragile. “I’m scared to go home. I don’t remember anyone… I’m so afraid of being alone.” She knew he was angry with her. She stood by the car, her body swaying as if a slight breeze might knock her over. The wind tangled her hair, framing her face in a calculated portrait of vulnerability against the dark night. Matt’s foot, poised to step into the car, froze. He leaned against the door, saying nothing. The cloying stickiness of cream and sugar clung to my skin, matting in my hair, making my very existence feel uncomfortable. A slow-burning fire started in my gut. I pushed the door open and got out. “You take her,” I said, my voice flat. “I’ll get a cab.” Before Matt could even process it, I was in a taxi, pulling away from the curb. His desperate shouts followed me, the sound laced with a bitterness that was lost to the growing distance. Only when my taxi had completely vanished from sight did he finally let Mia get in his car. And then, he took her home. 2 Matt returned sooner than I expected. This time, he didn’t see Mia all the way to her room. I was in the shower, the hot water doing little to wash away the night’s chill, when he came and stood outside the bathroom door. He apologized through the wood. “I’m sorry, Tess. She threw herself at me before I could react.” “It’s fine,” I called back, my voice hollow. “Next time, I’ll find a man to throw myself at, too.” Silence. It stretched for so long I thought he’d left. Then I heard a soft rustle. He’d slid down to the floor, his expensive suit crumpling against the tiles, listening to the rush of the water as he sank into his own thoughts. Inside the steam-filled bathroom, silent tears I'd choked back in public finally broke free, scalding paths down my cheeks. The humiliation, the jealousy, the sheer injustice of it all—it was too much to hold in anymore. After all our years together, I never knew Matt could be so soft-hearted toward another woman. So soft that he would repeatedly wound me just to soothe Mia’s fragile feelings. Tonight, Matt slept in the guest room. It was a new habit of his, one he’d developed since Mia came into our lives. One girl. That’s all it took to shatter the peaceful world we had built. I remember that first day so clearly. A strange girl, curled in Matt’s arms in a sterile hospital room, crying that he was the only one she wanted. When he saw me standing in the doorway, he just frowned, a look of helpless apology on his face. He didn't push her away. Later, I got the story. She had darted in front of his car. He’d saved her, but when she woke up, her memory was gone. She was like a lost lamb, her eyes filled with a profound, terrifying confusion. She recoiled from her own parents but clung to Matt’s sleeve as if it were a lifeline. She had made him her entire world. Matt didn’t come home that night. He stayed at the hospital with her. When he finally returned, he tried to explain. “She did it on purpose, Tess. She ran in front of my car. She was trying to kill herself.” His eyes were earnest, pleading for me to understand. “I have to save her.” I saw the resolve in his gaze, and though every instinct screamed at me to fight it, I said nothing. I knew then that no words of mine could stop the path he was determined to walk. 3 After Mia was discharged, the world was a frightening, alien landscape to her, and she clung to Matt even tighter. It started with video calls, one in the morning and one at night, as reliable as the sunrise. Then, it escalated. She’d call in the middle of the night, her panicked voice slicing through our sleep. I’d be jolted awake, only to watch Matt slip out of bed and take the call in the other room. I’d stare at the empty space he left behind, sleep now a distant memory. He’d be gone for an hour, sometimes two. He couldn't hang up until he had soothed her back to sleep. “Matt, don’t you think this is getting out of hand?” I finally asked one night, the exhaustion making my voice sharp. “It’s been over a month. Why is she still calling you for everything?” “She had a nightmare,” he murmured, pulling me into his arms, trying to lull me back to sleep. “She’s starting to get flashes of memory, bad ones.” “So what?” I pulled away slightly. “Is she going to be latched onto you for the rest of her life?” He chuckled, his eyes still closed, and tightened his embrace. “Jealous girl. I’ll talk to her tomorrow, I promise.” But his version of “talking to her” ended with Mia showing up at my office, her eyes shimmering with tears. “Please,” she choked out, her voice a fragile whisper. “Don’t make Matt shut me out. He’s all I know right now… all I recognize. I promise, as soon as I get more comfortable, I’ll disappear. I won’t bother you guys again.” My patience, worn thin over weeks of sleepless nights, finally snapped. “Mia, you’re not a child. You have parents. You must have had friends. Matt has a wife. Don’t you think constantly clinging to a married man is… inappropriate?” She bit her lip, a single tear tracing a path down her cheek. “But I have amnesia, I—” “You have amnesia, you’re not an idiot,” I cut her off. “Surely you understand the concept of wrecking a home, don’t you?” My words hit her like a physical blow. She staggered back, her eyes wide with unshed tears. Just then, the elevator dinged, and Matt stepped out. The moment she saw him, Mia turned and fled. And without a second thought, Matt chased after her. It was in that instant I realized it. In just a few short months, Mia’s hold on him had become terrifyingly deep. He couldn't bear to see her suffer even a moment of distress. How had I been so blind? That evening, their melodrama played out for the world to see. Someone filmed them in the middle of the street and the video went viral. Mia had run directly into traffic, forcing cars to screech to a halt. Matt, shouting her name, finally caught up to her. Amid a cacophony of angry horns and cursing drivers, one of them cried while the other comforted. “I’m shameless, I know I am!” she sobbed. “I’m the one clinging to you! Just let me go, please, let me keep what little dignity I have left!” The pain on Matt’s face was raw. “No, Mia, no. It’s not your fault. How could I ever blame you? You’re just lost… It was never you clinging to me.” The sound of a car horn blared, and then he pulled her into a tight, protective embrace. Even though I knew he’d manage to calm her down, seeing it with my own eyes—that desperate, public embrace—sent a tremor through my heart. I couldn’t understand how his love for her had bloomed so suddenly, or how his love for me had withered so fast. Just then, my phone buzzed with a notification. I opened it. It was a video, sent from Matt’s phone. He was at Mia’s house. The camera panned across a lively scene: Mia, laughing and playfully teasing him; her parents, beaming at him, chatting warmly. The atmosphere was one of perfect domestic bliss. I looked around my own silent living room. I was still wearing the stupid paper birthday hat. In front of me sat an untouched cake, its candles long since burned down to waxy stumps. The video was deleted a moment after I saved it. I didn’t have to guess who had sent it to me by "mistake." I cut myself a slice of cake. The frosting was sweet, so cloyingly sweet it tasted bitter. Birthday wishes flooded in from my parents and friends. I wiped the tear tracks from my face and forced a cheerful tone as I replied to each one. They all remarked on how chatty I was. “It’s my birthday!” I texted back with a smiling emoji. “Of course I’m happy!” Right at the stroke of midnight, a new message popped up. A grayed-out profile picture flickered to life for a brief second, then went dark again. But seeing it, I smiled for the first time all night. A real smile. And in that moment, I realized something. I had a family. I had friends. My world didn't have to revolve around Matt. I finished the large slice of cake, washed my face, and went to bed. I made myself a promise. I’m not waiting for you anymore, Matt. At one in the morning, I was shaken awake. It was Matt, just returned, still in his clothes from the day. The moonlight cast his face in shadow, his expression unreadable in the dark. After a long moment, his voice cut through the silence, cold and flat. “Tess, I’m letting this go, just this once. But from now on, you are not to bully Mia again.” His words shattered the fragile surface of my composure, unleashing a tidal wave of fury. I sat up and stared directly at him. I wanted to scream why. Why was she the one who got his protection? But what would be the point? The answer wouldn't change a thing. So instead, I just smiled, a cool, empty thing, and nodded. “Okay.” Matt flinched, clearly taken aback. He had come home braced for a fight, ready to stand his ground even if I threw a fit. My calm acceptance seemed to unnerve him more than any argument could have. It only confirmed his suspicion that I was playing some kind of game. “Tess, don’t be so unreasonable!” 4 With my "blessing," Matt no longer held back. I heard through the grapevine that he’d bought Mia a condo. And a new car, a luxury one. She was seen driving it everywhere, a picture of carefree independence. Eventually, Matt came to me with an explanation. “Mia’s not been doing well,” he said, his tone carefully neutral. “She’s remembering things, just broken pieces. Her therapist suggested a change of environment might help.” I sat at my desk, my face a mask of indifference. “Right. Got it.” “I won’t be staying here for a while,” he added, lingering by the door, studying me. He was still trying to figure it out—was I genuinely okay with this, or was this the world’s longest silent treatment? I stopped typing and looked up at him, a flicker of amusement in my eyes. “Sure. You spent your own money on a house and car for another woman. It would be a waste not to stay there. At least you won’t be losing sleep at night, worrying about her.” A complex emotion I couldn't decipher flickered in his eyes. He opened his mouth as if to say something more, but his phone rang, shattering the moment. A shrill scream echoed from the speaker. I didn’t need to guess who it was. Matt, who had been home for less than thirty minutes, was gone again in a flash. I heard the roar of his car’s engine fading down the street. In that moment, I had never been more certain of my decision. If he had taken just one step closer, if he had just glanced at my computer screen, he would have seen it. The divorce papers, already drafted and waiting.
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