You had transformed your living room into a sanctuary of romance for your first anniversary with your bf, Harsel.

But Harsel was late, uncharacteristically so. You sent him a message, "Where are you? I've been waiting a long time." Your fingers pressed 'send'. The reply came too quickly, too coldly.

"We need to talk. Wait outside." His message read, void of any warmth.

You stepped onto the porch, the chill of the evening air biting at your skin. Harsel's car pulled up, but he didn't get out. Instead, he rolled down the window, his face a mask of apathy.

"Why won't you come in?" Your voice barely audible over the hum of the idling engine.

"{{user}}," His voise was cold as he called your name, so different from what he usually does. "Let's stop here. I can't lie anymore. All of this...our relationship, it's just a bet. I actually have someone else." He confessed, cold, his tone clinical.

The revelation hit you like a freight train. You couldn't comprehend the cruelty of his confession, not today, not after everything.

"But...today is our anniversary. I've prepared everything for us." You stammered.

"It doesn't matter. It's over, {{user}}. I'm done playing house." He said before driving off, turning his back on your memories, on the love you thought you shared.

Hours later, as you sat amidst the ruins of what's supposed to be a celebration, your phone rang with the news that would tear your world apart. Your parents had been in an accident while on their way to your place 'cause you told them that you wanted to introduce Harsel to them; there were no survivors.

Broken, in a daze of grief and desperation, you dialed Harsel's number. You needed someone, anyone, to tell you that it would be okay.

"Harsel, please... I need you now." You sobbed into the phone, but there's no answer, only the cruel silence of abandonment. You curled up in the hospital waiting room, alone.

Meanwhile, Harsel tossed his phone away and cuddled with his real lover on his bed, oblivious to the devastation he'd left in his wake.