It had been ten years with Daniel, and for the first time, he baked me a birthday cake with his own hands. I took a bite, my heart swelling with joy, only for my skin to erupt in red, angry hives. My throat started to close. Vicky, watching me, clapped her hands and burst out laughing. “So Daniel was right! Some people really are allergic to cheap, artificial cream!” I begged Daniel to take me to the hospital. He just stared at me, his face cold. “An allergic reaction? It’s not that serious. Are you just trying to scare Vicky?” “I have to go with Vicky to shoot her vlog. If you want to go, go by yourself.” That day, it was a waitress who called the ambulance for me. Three months later, he finally remembered to call, his first words an accusation: “Sophie, are you done playing games?” The man beside me snatched the phone from my hand. “I hear you’re a great baker. We’re having our engagement party tomorrow. Why don’t you send a cake over?” Daniel panicked, but the line went dead. 1 The itching was unbearable, and a slow, horrifying realization dawned on me: I was having a severe allergic reaction. Ever since I was three years old and ended up in the emergency room after eating cake, I’ve known that imitation whipped cream was poison to me. And Daniel knew it too. My throat was swelling shut. I collapsed to my knees, gasping for air. “This has… artificial cream in it,” I rasped, forcing myself to look at the cake on the table, the one with a single slice missing—my slice. “Daniel, you knew…” Vicky cut me off, pointing at my face and howling with laughter. “Haha! Sophie, your face is so swollen you look like a pig!” “So Daniel was right! Someone really is allergic to that stuff!” She was doubled over, snapping pictures with her phone. Daniel’s face was a mask of impatience. “I know. So what? A little bit won’t kill you.” Vicky suddenly put on a pathetic pout. “It was my fault. I was just so curious if the allergy was real, that’s the only reason Daniel did it. If you’re going to be mad at someone, be mad at me.” I couldn’t speak anymore. If this continued, I was going to go into anaphylactic shock. I grabbed Daniel’s arm, desperately making gestures, trying to tell him to call 911. Vicky shrank behind him. “Danny, she’s scaring me.” Daniel violently shook my hand off, shielding Vicky. His voice was laced with disgust. “An allergic reaction isn’t that dramatic. You’re just trying to scare her on purpose.” “I have to go with Vicky to shoot her vlog. If you need a doctor, call one yourself.” And with that, they left, leaving me alone on the floor. Watching his retreating back, my heart felt like it was being crushed by a giant fist, a pain that eclipsed anything my body was feeling. So this was their birthday gift to me. At nine years old, Daniel had promised to protect me forever, to never let anything hurt me. At twenty-nine, he had shattered that promise with his own hands. Tears streamed down my face. If this was how it was going to be, then I was letting go. For my own sake. My vision blurred, and then everything went black. 2 I woke to a blinding light, and a large hand immediately covered my eyes. The clean, crisp scent of soap wafted from his sleeve, a scent that was inexplicably calming. Daniel? Had he come back? I knew it was unlikely, but a foolish sliver of hope flickered within me. I reached up to push his hand away, to see his face, but he caught my wrist and gently tucked it back under the covers. “Don’t get cold.” His voice was cool, a stark contrast to his gentle touch. It was Noah, my junior from grad school. The moment I saw his face, my heart sank. “Oh, it’s you.” I tried my best to hide my disappointment, but Noah saw right through it. “Who else were you hoping for? That useless boyfriend of yours?” He handed me a glass of water. “You’ve been out for a whole day. Drink something.” I took the glass, watching as he put the insulated thermos he’d poured it from back inside his jacket, close to his chest. It was the one I’d given him for his birthday three years ago. Seeing me staring, he awkwardly placed it on the bedside table. “I just… I just kept it because it’s good quality.” I didn’t press him. My mind drifted back to when I was eighteen, when Daniel and I had made a pair of matching couple’s mugs at a pottery class. He had held me and whispered, “These represent our love. I’ll keep mine until I’m eighty.” A few days ago, I saw Vicky post a picture on her Instagram story. It was a small succulent, planted in a familiar mug. The caption read: I said I wanted it, and he gave it to me right away. It’s perfect for my little plant! And there it was, Daniel’s mug. He had even commented below: As long as you like it. I’ll get you something even better next time. When I called to confront him, he got angry. “It’s just a mug, Sophie. Are you serious? When did you become so petty? We can just make another one.” After we hung up that day, I felt a profound weariness settle over me. He was the one who had forgotten his promise, but he was telling me I was the one who had changed. We had a huge fight. We didn't speak until yesterday, when he messaged me, saying he wanted to celebrate my birthday. I thought he wanted to apologize. I never imagined he was just planning to deepen my disappointment. All the little disappointments were piling up, and the love I once felt was slowly eroding away. “Hello? Are you even listening to me?” Noah’s raised voice pulled me back to the present. “You knew you were allergic. Why did you eat it? You’re a grown woman, how could you make a mistake like that?” His face was tense. “They ended up calling me, you know.” “Was Mr. Wonderful so busy that he couldn’t even answer your call at a time like this?” I checked my phone. Three missed calls to Daniel. All unanswered. The nurse must have gone through my recent calls and found Noah’s number, since I had called him a few days ago about our mentor’s birthday. Noah was just getting warmed up. “He doesn’t even have time to pick up the phone? I think he’s just—” “Stop it!” My voice was suddenly sharp. “I’m hungry. Can you get me something to eat?” Noah looked at me, a strange emotion flickering in his eyes. Seeing me avoid his gaze, he turned and left, a shadow of disappointment in his posture. Watching him go, I felt a pang of regret for my harsh tone. He was still in his suit, obviously having rushed over from work. I’d heard he had recently taken over his family’s company; he must be incredibly busy. We were just friends, barely even in contact since graduation. I had no right to treat him that way. I was surprised he had even come at all. It was just… hearing him talk about Daniel made me feel ashamed. Even an outsider could see how little Daniel cared. I was only fooling myself. My phone buzzed. It was a new video from Vicky. She was a minor influencer with a few hundred thousand followers, famous for her schtick of “randomly” picking handsome strangers on the street for romantic-themed photoshoots. A year ago, she had “randomly” picked Daniel. I remember him sending me a special text asking if I’d mind. How ironic that seems now. From that day on, he and Vicky became fast friends. Daniel had opened a small dessert shop after college, and thanks to the viral photos, a lot of Vicky’s fans flocked to his store. After that, Vicky used the excuse of photoshoots to spend more and more time with him. I told him they were getting too close. He’d just laugh it off. “We’re just buddies. What are you thinking? Besides, her popularity is great for business. It’s mutually beneficial.” I believed his nonsense and watched as they got closer and closer, until he started prioritizing her over me. I steeled myself and opened the video. The title was “A Happy Day with My Temporary Photographer!” The video showed them at an amusement park, taking photos in a “princess and knight” theme. In one shot, Daniel was on one knee, kissing the back of Vicky’s hand. I saw a familiar look in his eyes—a look that used to be reserved for me. The comment section was filled with people ‘shipping’ them. “Wow, the sparks are flying! Someone get these two a marriage license!” “This guy has been in so many of her videos. Is something really going on?” Vicky replied with a blushing, face-hiding emoji. Her fans went wild. Even though I had already decided to let go, seeing this still sent a sharp pain through my heart. 3 My allergic reaction had subsided. Noah drove me home. A folk song I loved was playing softly in the car. I remembered how Daniel’s car was always blasting rock music. When I complained it was too loud, he said I was getting old, that my taste couldn’t keep up. But he was the one who had told me folk music was beautiful in the first place, the reason I had started listening to it. The singer’s gentle voice lulled me to sleep. I dreamt of my childhood. Whenever bullies picked on me, Daniel would always fight them off. When I asked him why, he’d wipe his runny nose, his eyes brighter than stars, and say, “You’re going to be my wife someday. I can’t let them push around my future wife.” But dreams end. Reality had taken a sharp, cruel turn. A tear escaped the corner of my eye. I felt a cool touch on my cheek and opened my eyes to see Noah quickly pulling his hand back. “What are you doing…?” “Just curious,” he said with a smirk. “I never thought I’d see our ‘Iron Lady’ shed a tear.” He’d given me that nickname in grad school because of how hard I worked. I jabbed him with my elbow. “Still making fun of your senior, huh? You’re asking for it.” We roughhoused for a moment, and it felt like we were back in school again, a comfortable familiarity settling between us. My mood lifted. When we got to my apartment, Noah just looked at me, as if he had something to say. His stare made my cheeks flush. I laughed nervously. “What, are you about to confess your undying love?” He didn’t speak, just kept looking. Just as the silence became awkward and I was about to make an excuse to leave, he finally said, “Take care of yourself.” I didn’t have my keys, so it was Daniel who opened the door. “What took you so long?” he asked, as if nothing had happened. I didn’t answer. The silence stretched until he finally put down his phone, the smile he’d had while looking at the screen vanishing. He looked up at me, his tone accusatory. “You’re not still mad about the cake, are you? Seriously? It was just a joke to make a girl happy.” “Daniel, a severe allergic reaction can kill someone! Is a human life a joke to you?” The casual indifference on his face made my heart ache. This toxic relationship wasn’t worth saving. A sweet, feminine voice suddenly came from his phone. “Oh, Danny, please don’t fight. It’s all my fault. I really didn’t know it would be that serious.” The voice broke into a sob, and Daniel immediately became frantic. “Sophie, when did you become so vicious? She was just having some fun. Besides, you’re fine now, aren’t you?” His baseless accusation made me see the man I had loved for so many years with chilling clarity. In his stunned silence, I slapped him hard across the face. “‘Just for fun’ could have cost me my life,” I said, my voice shaking with rage. “I was lucky to make it out of the hospital today. If I had died, would you have stood over my grave and said it was ‘just for fun’? What you did was attempted murder. I could press charges!” The word “hospital” seemed to extinguish his fury. He looked me up and down. “Hospital? It was that serious? Are you okay?” I slapped away the hand he reached out to me. He tried to say something else, but was interrupted by a noise from his phone. “Ah! There’s someone lurking outside my house! What if it’s a stalker? I’m so scared…” “Don’t be afraid. I’m on my way,” Daniel said instantly. He pulled a box from his pocket, placed it on the table, and headed for the door. “This is your birthday present. I’ll explain when I get back…” I knew he wouldn’t be back tonight. The so-called gift was a pink necklace. I knew instantly whose style it was. I didn’t touch it. I had a business trip for work anyway. I packed a few things and left. 4 Over the next few days, Daniel sent a few texts. I just replied that I was on a business trip and then ignored him. Strangely, Noah kept asking me out to dinner, saying he wanted to discuss our mentor’s birthday plans, even though there was nothing special about it this year. I returned a week later, just in time for my grandmother’s 80th birthday. In previous years, Daniel and I would have gone back together. Now… My mom texted asking if I was coming. I was about to say I’d be coming alone when a message from Daniel popped up, offering to drive us both back. I agreed, thinking it would be the perfect opportunity, with all our family there, to make the breakup official. I thought, at the very least, he wouldn’t back out of something like this. But on the day we were supposed to leave, he went silent. I stood at our designated meeting spot for hours. Darkness fell. I decided I’d just go by myself the next day. But then my mom called. My grandmother had fallen down the stairs. I tried to book a ticket immediately, but it was the start of the university winter break, and everything was sold out. Staring at my silent phone, I didn’t hesitate any longer. Daniel’s actions had erased any reason I had left to forgive him. It was better to rip the band-aid off. I typed out a text. “We’re done.” I was frantic to find out more about my grandmother’s condition when my phone rang. A familiar yet distant number flashed on the screen. It was Noah. The contact name was still “Junior,” a relic of a more detached time.
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