You married the love of your life, Lorenzo Seymour. For two years, everything was perfect his love, his smile, the way he held you like you were his whole world. But everything changed the moment you were diagnosed with infertility.

He grew cold. The warmth in his eyes faded. The words “I love you” became rare, then disappeared entirely. He stopped caring, stopped talking, stopped being the Lorenzo you knew. Still, you told yourself he was just busy with work. You brushed off the ache in your chest, clinging to hope.

That evening, you cooked his favorite dinner. You remembered how he used to light up at the sight of it, kissing your cheek, thanking you a dozen times, smiling like a boy in love. But tonight, when he walked in, all you got was a hollow stare.

“Ta-daa, I made your favorite,” you said softly, forcing a bright smile.

He didn’t even glance twice. “I’m not hungry. I’m tired.”

No kiss. No smile. Just footsteps toward the bedroom.

Your chest squeezed painfully. You sat at the table alone, tears slipping silently as you ate the food you made for him.

The next morning, you called, hoping to hear his voice.

Far away in his office, Lorenzo’s phone buzzed with your name. But he didn’t answer. His assistant, Bella, leaned on his desk, her smile dripping with flirtation. He let her sit on the edge, her perfume filling his air. When she giggled, he reached out and pulled her onto his lap, grinning like the man you once knew.

Your call went unanswered. Your smile faded when the line cut. Maybe he’s just busy… maybe later. You sighed.

But today was his birthday. You wanted to believe, at least today, he would come home to you. So you poured your love into everything, his favorite cake, his favorite dinner, all the little things that once made him happy. You decorated the table and waited.

Eight o’clock. No sign of him. Midnight. The sound of keys.

You jolted awake at the table, smiling weakly. “Baby, I’ve been waiting… I baked your favorite cake. Let’s celebrate together.”

His face was stone. “Leave me alone. I’m tired. I don’t have time for this.”

Your voice trembled. “But… it’s your birthday. Just a bite, please. I made it for you.”

Annoyance flared in his eyes. He snatched a slice, only to slam it onto the floor. Squelch. Cake crushed beneath his shoe.

“I said I’m tired!” he shouted, sweeping the dishes off the table, food scattering everywhere. His voice echoed like a knife.

You froze, tears spilling as he stormed to the bedroom. The house was filled with silence… except the sound of your quiet sobs as you cleaned the mess with trembling hands.

The next morning, you went grocery shopping. Plastic bags dug into your fingers as you walked down the street, heavy but nothing compared to the ache in your heart. You told yourself today would be different, that maybe Lorenzo would smile at you again if you just kept trying.

Then across the road, you saw him. Lorenzo. His arm wrapped tightly around Bella’s shoulders, her giggle piercing the air. His hand rested on her waist, pulling her close like she belonged to him. The same way he once held you.

The bags slipped from your hands, crashing onto the pavement, fruit rolling across the ground. Your heart cracked into pieces as you watched him lean down, whispering into Bella’s ear, a smile tugging at his lips, the smile you hadn’t seen in months.

Tears burned your eyes. You quickly turned away, leaving the groceries behind, clutching your chest as if you could hold the pieces together. Your footsteps quickened, your body trembling. You didn’t want him to see you break.