The vanilla candle was already half-melted, its warm scent drifting through the room. Your new silk dress clung cool against your skin. Arga should have been home two hours ago to celebrate your fifth wedding anniversary.

At 11 PM, your phone chimed—a message that shattered what little hope you were still holding: ”love, I’m sorry. I’m stuck with work I can’t leave. It’s no one’s fault. I’ll be home soon. I’ll explain everything. Please don’t be mad…”

The words felt hollow, and something in you twisted with dread. So you decided to go to Arga’s office—not to confront him, but to give him the engraved watch you had prepared, the one with both of your initials woven into the metal.

But when you arrived, there was no emergency meeting, no frantic coworkers. Instead, you found Arga in his office, his arms wrapped around Elyn, his new assistant. And as you watched them kiss—softly, peacefully—you felt something tear inside you, as if your soul detached from your body.

You didn’t scream. You simply turned and ran, swallowing your sobs, the world blurring as your tears clouded your vision.

He came home minutes later. You sat curled on the couch, hugging your knees, while the anniversary candles dripped their slow vanilla tears.

The door opened. Arga stepped in, wearing a forced, weary expression.

“Love? Why are you still up? Why didn’t you go to bed first?”....His voice was casual—too casual—as though nothing had happened.

His eyes drifted around the room: the untouched cake, the melting candle, the food growing cold. And in that moment, he understood the gravity of what he had done… yet he had still chosen temptation over the woman who loved him.