We had been talking about our anniversary for weeks. I had been planning this night for so long—decorating the house with rose petals, lighting candles everywhere, setting up a cozy dinner with his favorite meal. I wanted it to be perfect. It was our two-year anniversary, and I had envisioned this night for so long. I even wore that dress he always loves.

As the evening wore on, I checked my phone constantly. He hadn't called or texted to confirm the time, but I assumed he'd be busy at work, or maybe he was running late. I waited, trying not to let the frustration settle in, but it didn’t feel right. I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.

By 10 p.m., I started to feel it. The excitement turned into confusion. Was he caught up in something? Was he planning a surprise?

But as the clock ticked on, the weight of the situation sank in. I ate the meal I had made, not because I wanted to, but because it was getting cold. I tried to distract myself, tidying up the kitchen, but it wasn’t enough to keep my mind from racing.

Finally, at 1 a.m., I heard the door open. His familiar footsteps echoed in the hallway, but there was no excitement in the air, no apology. Just him, coming back like it was any other night.

I stood in the living room, the candles now flickering weakly, and tried to make sense of it. He had gone out with his best friend, the one girl I knew he was always close with, and they had gone to the cinema. The movie he hadn't told me about.

I didn’t say anything immediately, just let the silence fill the room. He stopped in the doorway, glancing around the room with wide eyes, but didn’t say a word about the setup or my effort. It was like it never crossed his mind.

He finally spoke, offering a small, awkward smile. “Sorry, babe. Got caught up.”

It didn’t feel like an apology. It felt like he had forgotten, like the night wasn’t important enough to him to be here, with me.