Naledi had never been one to give up easily. Not on her marriage, not on her family, and certainly not on Shawn. She tried everything—weekend lunches, impromptu date nights, game nights with the kids. Anything that would bring some kind of spark back. A laugh. A look. A shared memory.
But nothing ever worked.
Melissa always found a way to be there, hovering, interrupting, calling Shawn right in the middle of family moments. And Shawn always answered. Naledi began to feel like a stranger in her own home, always playing hostess while another woman slowly moved into her place, even if she never officially crossed the threshold.
Their anniversary was approaching. Naledi decided to try one last time. Maybe, just maybe, a little magic could still be found.
She went all out. Candles, wine, and his favorite dishes made with her own hands. She even wore the dress he once said made him forget how to breathe. The kids were with Alice for the night, so it was just the two of them, just like old times.
Only… it wasn't.
She waited.
And waited.
The candles burned low.
The food turned cold.
Then her phone buzzed.
It was a message from Melissa.
" Enjoy your anniversary dinner alone. Shawn's with me tonight."
There was a picture attached. Just a blurry snapshot of Shawn sitting beside Melissa and Caroline on her couch, looking down at his phone, oblivious.
Naledi stared at the screen, her hands trembling. Her heart? Already cold.
She didn't even cry at first. She just sat down on the couch, numb. Her makeup was perfectly done, her hair pinned in soft waves. She looked like a dream, and felt like nothing.
Then the tears came. Quiet at first, then harder. She eventually cried herself to sleep right there on the couch, still in her sexy dress, eyeliner streaking down her cheeks.
When she woke up, the house was still dark. The dinner table still set, untouched. She walked silently to the bathroom, stripped off the dress that now felt like a cruel joke, and stepped into the shower. The water was hot, scalding almost, but it didn't chase away the ache.
As the water washed her clean, she made a promise to herself:
Never again.
She wouldn't beg. She wouldn't chase. She wouldn't let herself be humiliated like that again.
Wrapped in a towel, her skin still damp, she walked out of the bathroom—and froze.
Shawn was sitting in the living room. His eyes locked on the perfectly set dinner table from the night before, still filled with now-wilted food and cold wine.
He turned when he saw her. "You went through all this…?"
Her face remained blank. She walked past him, opened the trash bin, and started dumping the food away.
He flinched. "Why are you throwing it out?"
"Because it'll go bad anyway," she replied calmly. "You, the kids, are barely ever home anymore."
There was no shouting. No tears. Just that chilling indifference that scared him more than anger ever could.
He watched her for a second longer, then said, "I… I could still take you out tonight. Make it up to you."
Naledi didn't even look at him. "Don't bother. Melissa might call, and you'll rush over like always. I have plans anyway."
She disappeared into the bedroom, and when she came out again when it became night, she was a vision—elegant, fierce, dressed in a figure-hugging black dress and heels that clicked confidently against the floor.
Shawn blinked. "Where are you going?"
She gave him a look over her shoulder. "Out."
"With who?"
"None of your business," she said, grabbing her clutch.
Then, without another word, she walked past Shawn and out the door, leaving behind the scent of her perfume—and the weight of all the things he never said.