The Soufflé of Sweet Revenge

Lan

n hadn't come home, as expected. The empty space beside me in bed no longer felt like a gaping wound, but

limb reacting to old pain. Had he come back? Was this another one of his attempt

ming off-key, warming up the leftover anniversary dinner. The raspberry soufflé, now

ing dinner go to waste, could we? My bad about last night. Frankie had a r

et's pretend it's still yesterday. Our anniversary dinner, round two. Just you

arm, once so captivating, now felt hollow, manipulative. "Collin

y career is. It's not like I was out partying." He tried to pull me into a hug, but I stiffened. "

tle something to make up for my absence." He opened it, revealing a delicate silver necklace with a t

a of the one Frankie Patton frequently wore in her social media posts. And the metal... silver. My s

en know something as fundamental as my allergies. He didn't know me. The necklace wasn't for me. It was for Frankie, anoth

ntality, evaporated. "Get out, Collin," I said, my

more. You're being dramatic. I'm telling you, it was just business. Frankie and I are colleagues. You're my

d him more than any shouting ever could. His eyes darted

repeated, louder this tim

nct, chirpy ringtone I knew well. The one he' d specifically set for F

in months. "Are you okay? What happened? Another catering disaster? Don't worry, I'm on my way." He didn' t even bother to

one. Again. Off t

silver necklace glinting on the counter. A strange sense of lightness washed over me

separating what was mine from what was his. I filed my official two-weeks' notice at the community college

anting to try, but Collin, with his "refined" palate, had always deemed it "too pedestrian." Tonight, I woul

of roasted duck. I ordered a glass of champagne, then the escargot, followed by the steak

feeling a sense of peace I hadn'

and F

ing on Collin's arm. He was spoon-feeding her a bite of crème brûlée, his eyes soft, almost shy. Shy. He had ne

s slow, triumphant. She raised her