My Cruel Choice, His Silent Death

Collin

is scent, the lingering aroma of rosemary and garlic, had faded from the kitchen. Buddy, our golden retriever, wand

e filled with his warmth, now felt like a mausoleum. My mausoleum. I started to pack, a feverish atte

of his crumpled form, his desperate plea, still haunted my nightmar

lay in a heap, destined for donation. I was stripping away the layers of pretense, of the woman I thought I ne

door cre

d, a foolish,

ed the place, a cocky smirk on his face. And there,

yant announced, his voice too l

. "What are you do

me. Said he was leaving, and someone needed to look after you." He glance

he audacity. The she

all you," I said

e you didn't starve without a chef." He winked, a gest

had truly cut me out, replaced me, even with B

huckled, ruffling his fur. "Good boy, Buddy. At least someone appreciates me." He

here," I said, my voi

e, is he?" He sneered, his eyes glinting with malice. "Besides, I'm doi

he man I had prioritized over Cole. This manipulative, self

arely a whisper, but vibrating with a

phone buzzed

o discuss the new acqu

scream, to smash something, anything to release the pressure buildin

," I told Sara

ce. "Duty calls, huh? Don't worry, I'll make m

e thought struck me. This was what Cole must have felt like, all

tter taste in my mouth. "Stay

. As I drove to the office, my mind raced. The emptiness of the house, Bryant

ter, I returned home, the city lights blurring into streaks

ed out, a flicke

ans

curled up by the fireplace, whimpering. A

iness. Take care of Bu

. Just like he always did. Leaving

head. He whined, nudging his n

ssed

g. It was an

st ign

esperate, irrational

el

d melodic, filled my ear.

lied, my hea

m a food critic here in Par

culinary blogs, always next to Cole's. Her reviews of his new restaur

ed, my voice ba

intimate. "His restaurant, 'L'Âme du Chef,' is a sensation. We're celebrat

seen him. The words wer

I said, my v

livious to my pain. "He wanted me to let you know tha

hoping, foolishly, that he woul

e added, a hint of something in her voic

die," I said, m

bye,

ne wen

ear, the dial tone a mocking chorus.

y. Without

takes, a hollow house, and a broken hea

th down my cheek. It was a painful echo, bec