oing to be you, Chloe." "No one understands me like you do." "We're going to build a future together." The words, o

kitchen, making the pancakes I used to love, humming a cheerful tune.

e said, smiling.

hadn't liked overly sweet things for years, a fa

gently. It was a small act of rebellion, a quie

confused, then shrugge

a tangled mess of anger and sadness, but on the surface, I was a

having that big anniversary party next month

lculating, planning. I would go to the party. I would play the par

up his things-the books he'd left on my nightstand, the extra toothbrush in the bathroom, the hoodie he always wore on lazy Sund

for the trash pickup. Just as I turne

his face. "What's all this?"

'm getting rid of," I

life with me, and tossed it into the large trash bin at the end of the driveway. The irony was so thick I coul

few hours later. It was a large, potted orchid, elegant

ait to fill it with more b

ne, laughing at something on the screen. He was a complete stranger to me. The person I had loved, or the person I thought I had loved, was gone. Maybe he never existed a