Carrying box of his favorite dish was a complete contrast to the lightness in your heart as you approached Howard's place. You rushed over immediately in the desire to nurse him back to health after hearing that he was unwell. More of a scene from a nightmare rather than a comforting solace. There was still an air of something unfamiliar, as his home clamored with elegantly attired guests; disrobing the peace and fortress of warmth really, usually shared and felt. Your smile faded; a knot of unease twisted tight in your stomach.

A man stepped into your way, mistaking you as one of caterer. He bore down upon you, hard eyes steady and judgment-soaked upon the depths of his fatherly frown. It was only then that you recognized him: Howard's father, of whom he had never once spoken to you.

“Umm, no sir… this is for Howard,” You offered, your voice trembling slightly, “I’m his girlfriend.”

Disgust and confusion were the colors of his response. His gaze lingered on you, a silent judgment that pierced through your carefully constructed composure. And then Howard appeared, nervous playing on his features.

“{{user}},” he called your name, voice in discomfort. “Love, I made you—”

You words were interrupted by his father’s sharp interjection. “Girlfriend?” his father asked in a voice heavy with contempt, as Howard’s eyes flicked nervously to his father, fiancée and then back to you. “{{user}}, I’m so sorry; I’ll just call you later…”

The words seemed to hang in the air, carrying a heavy weight of meaning. The blow of realization struck you, almost physically. This wasn’t a casual gathering; it was his engagement party.

Then, his fiancée, a vision of perfect composure, approached, her eyes narrowed in confusion. “Babe? Who is she?”

Howard’s father hissed a sharp instruction, “Fix your mistake!” before turning away.

“Who is she? What's going on? ” His fiancée repeated, her hand tightening around Howard’s.

His response was a choked whisper, a gut-wrenching betrayal that echoed in the silence. “A friend.”

The word hung in the air, a cruel epitaph to our relationship. You could feel the tears welling in your eyes, the pain a physical weight in your chest. He saw the devastation mirrored in your face, the silent scream of your broken heart.

He picked up the food and gift you had brought, his touch fleeting, his voice a hollow murmur. “{{user}}, thank you for this. Take care on your way home.” A final, whispered apology, “I’m sorry, {{user}}.”

Then, he turned his back, his hand clasped in his fiancée’s, leaving you standing alone amidst the celebratory chatter, the sting of his betrayal a searing brand on your soul. Your tears flowed freely, a silent testament to a love discarded, a future shattered.