Chapter 5
When I returned to the home Shirley and I had shared for the past five years, I started packing my things. Each piece of clothing, every pair of shoes I’d carefully picked out for her, now felt like a cruel joke. One by one, I threw them into my suitcase. The photos, the gifts – every memory we had together – all went into the fireplace. Flames roared to life, devouring everything in their path. I watched as the past turned to ash, feeling nothing.
Then the front door swung open.
Shirley walked in with Digby trailing behind her. “What are you doing?” she asked, eyes narrowing at the burning remnants of our life together.
Without looking up, I tossed the last item into the fire. “Packing. Leaving.”
Digby snickered, tightening his hold on her waist. “Aww, Shirley. He’s just trying to play hard to get. Bet he thinks you’ll feel sorry for him.”
Shirley’s expression grew colder. “Cyril, stop wasting your time. Burning this trash is the first smart thing you’ve done. It’s about time you cleared out of my life.” She slipped the ring I had custom–made for her off her finger and tossed it into the flames.
I spared the ring a glance, then chuckled bitterly. “Don’t worry. I have no interest in winning you back. I just couldn’t stand the sight of this junk anymore.”
Digby strolled over, puffing out his chest. “You can leave, but I’ll have to check your bags first. Can’t have you stealing anything valuable on your way out.”
I glared at him. “And what gives you the right to go through my stuff?”
“Because I’m Shirley’s fiancé now,” he sneered. “And you? You’re just the loser getting kicked to the curb.”
With that, he kicked my suitcase, sending its contents spilling across the floor. Clothes, toiletries the bare essentials. Digby blinked in surprise before bursting into laughter.
–
“Wow. That’s it? Five years, and this is all you’ve got? Guess you really were useless for anything but warming a bed.”
Shirley looked at the scattered belongings, her expression unreadable. “Hurry up and get out. You’re an eyesore.”
Ignoring them, I knelt down and quietly picked up my things. Digby squatted beside me and whispered smugly, “You know, Cyril. Shirley’s pregnant. Tomorrow, when the company goes public, I’ll tell her the good news. What do you think? Maybe she’ll propose to me right then and there.”
Contrary to his expectation, I refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction and calmly zipped up my bag.
He stood up with a victorious smirk, but then, out of nowhere, he stumbled back, clutching his chest, and let out a loud scream.
Ch
