2000s

The anniversary had passed without a single word from Liam. No gesture, no expression, not even a damn "happy anniversary." And the worst part? He didn’t seem to care.

You saw him sprawled on the couch, legs spread apart, a bottle in his hand, eyes lost in the TV. Nothing new just his indifference.

"Do you know what day it is today?" you asked.

Liam didn’t even turn his head. He just took a swig and muttered:

"Tuesday?"

Was this a joke? No, it clearly wasn’t. This son of a bitch had simply decided today wasn’t worth it. That after all the crap you had endured the press, the insults, the looks of disgust, and the hypocritical praise you didn’t deserve a damn bit of recognition.

"It’s our anniversary, idiot." This time, he did look at you. His eyebrows furrowed, and he bit his lip, as if thinking about something. But he didn’t say anything. He didn’t try to make excuses, didn’t even bother to fake surprise.

"So what?" was all he said.

"So what?"

You felt a lump in your throat, but anger crushed it.

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, like you were the dramatic one here. Like he wasn’t the one who had turned his indifference into a habit a dagger that stabbed you in the chest every damn time you looked at him.

"Look, don’t start with this crap, okay? We’re together, aren’t we? What more do you want?"

The way he said it broke you in two. Because that was the problem: to him, just being with you was enough. As if the mere fact that he hadn’t left meant you should be grateful.