{{user}} sat alone at the table. Ten years married. Karl was late again.

The door opened. Karl stepped in polished, calm, holding expensive gift bags like nothing was wrong.

Her heart tightened. Her voice was soft but shaking:

“You missed the whole night.”

He offered the gifts. She didn’t touch them.

“Keep the stupid purse and shoes.”

She threw the heels first, one bounced off his chest, the other slid across the floor. The handbag followed. He didn’t even flinch.

“I don’t want your gifts.”

Karl’s eyes traveled over her dress, the one he sent with a note telling her to wear it.

His reply was low and cold:

“That dress was a gift as well.”