My Cruel Choice, His Silent Death

Collin

the gnawing ache of his absence. I tried to drown myself in business, in new ventures, in punishing schedul

"L'Âme du Chef," every photo of him smiling with Elodie, was another twist of the knife. He

d

autiful, powerful CEO

-help retreats. Nothing worked. The emptiness persisted, a black hole i

ver key clutched in my hand. The building looked the same, unassuming, filled with m

. No furniture, no pictures, no scent of his cooking. Just dust mot

where he had cooked me breakfast, the living room where we had watched movies, the be

merger. He hadn't said anything, just cooked my favorite meal, lit candles, and waited. I had arrived home late, exhausted, ir

me. I sank to the floor, surrounded by the ghosts of our past, and wept. Not the quiet, dig

t was from Cole. My heart leaped, a flicker of hope

s I had left in the apartment. My old college t

adoring gaze, my forced smile. There, on the last page, was a picture of Buddy,

misse

og, the one I had left behind, wa

ached with a longing so profound it took my breath away. He was r

n happiness. But how? How could I find happiness when the only

expensive gifts, gourmet ingredients from around the world, rare wines. All of them were

mail. It contained a link to a live st

s radiant, poised, talking about Cole' s new book, a colle

hed, her eyes sparkling. "His passion

"And your relationship, Elod

e a deep connection. A mutual respect, a shared love for the cul

he words were a bitter poison. That was what I

in the future?" the

private smile on her lips. "Perhaps. We'

dding bells. He was going to marry he

ce. It was over. Truly over. He had found his happiness, his peace. And

our love. It was about facing the devastating consequences of emotional neglect, the

image of his happy, goofy face a cruel reminder of the love