Liam spent $100,000 on a fireworks show for his new secretary. Then he had the nerve to text me: [Stella, for our 10th anniversary, I promise I'll get you a fireworks show.] It's all I'd wanted, ten years ago. We were broke. We’d just signed the papers at city hall. We celebrated by lighting sparklers in our tiny apartment parking lot. Looking at the sky explode across the Austin skyline, I found the video from that night, ten years ago. I took a screenshot and posted it to my private Instagram story. [All endings are like this.] Liam didn't come home that night. The next morning, I had a set of divorce papers messengered to his office. Arriving in the same delivery was a letter, sent ten years ago from a "slow-mail" shop in Portland. On it, in Liam's own handwriting: [Did you love Stella a little more today?] 1 The second he signed for the papers, my phone rang. "Stella, what the hell are you doing? "You throw 'divorce' around every time you're upset. Are you serious? "You're thirty years old, not three. Can you please, for once, be mature?" His anger was a familiar, scalding wave of blame. Before I could answer, a syrupy, young voice co-opted his speakerphone. "Mr. Chen, don't be angry. I'm sure Stella didn't mean it. She's probably just in a bad mood... you know, at her age. Just be sweet to her, and she'll be fine." Liam's voice got even tighter. "Jenna, shut up." Then, back to me, "Stella, I'm coming home. We're going to talk about this, face to face." 2 He hung up. A second later, my phone lit up with Instagram notifications. An account I'd been watching, @Jenna_In_Austin, had posted three new stories. Story 1: [Omg he yelled at me ? Guess he's not seeing my smile for a whole week.] The photo was a pouty selfie, clearly taken in Liam's CEO office. Story 2: [Okay, he apologized. He said the woman at home is having another tantrum and I just need to be patient. I guess I'll forgive him. ?] The photo was of two trendy matcha lattes. Story 3: [He has to go home to deal with the old lady. Ugh, women 30+ are so much drama. Unlike me. I'd never stress him out. ?] The photo was a "candid" side profile, all youthful innocence. She was Jenna, Liam's new secretary. She'd come to our penthouse three months ago to pick up a file Liam had forgotten. I was working from home. She was... young. Early twenties, flawless skin, a high ponytail. She looked like a college freshman. After I gave her the file, she'd smiled brightly and asked for my number. "To add you to the company contacts, Mrs. Chen!" I agreed. "Stella, you are gorgeous," she'd gushed, linking her arm with mine. "What's your secret? You don't look a day over 25. I'm already getting wrinkles, and I'm only 20!" Her smile was blinding. Her eyes were sharp. I gave her my best corporate smile. "My secret? I don't say things I shouldn't. And I don't do things I shouldn't." I'd mentioned her to Liam later. He'd just laughed. "What, are you jealous? She's a kid, Stella. Fresh out of school. She's not a threat. "Besides, HR hired her. And you know you're the only one for me. We've been together since we were seventeen. We're unbreakable." I'd looked at him, so sure, so confident. Our love had survived being broke, survived the struggle. But no one ever warns you that love doesn't survive success. 3 Yesterday was the ninth anniversary of our company, Starstream Tech. It was also the day we officially crossed the billion-dollar-revenue mark. As co-founder and COO, I should have been there. But a major client in California was threatening to pull their contract. Liam couldn't go. We’d landed that client together, five years ago. I was the only other person who could save the deal. I’d been pulling back from the company for the last year, anyway, handing off my duties. We were trying to get pregnant. So I flew to LA, handled the crisis, and flew home, collapsing into bed. I just didn't realize how... eventful... the celebration in Austin would be. At 10 PM, Liam called. "Hey, babe. Just letting you know, the team is demanding we celebrate all night. I'm not gonna make it home. You were amazing today. Get some rest." I was annoyed, but I let it go. The old-guard employees who’d been with us from the garage days deserved a celebration. "Fine," I said. "But no smoking, and go easy on the drinking. We're still trying, remember?" "Yes, ma'am!" The call left me wide awake. I scrolled through Instagram. And I saw it. Jenna's post. [He said he couldn't promise me forever. So he gave me the sky instead. ?] The post was nine separate video clips of a massive, professional fireworks display. In the center of the finale, spelled out in fire: J E N N A. I clicked the first clip. A deep, familiar voice, my husband's voice, wrapped around hers. "Jenna, did your 18-year-old wish come true?" My blood went cold. At that exact moment, a text from Liam came through. [Hey, the company fireworks are amazing. For our 10th anniversary, I'll get you your own show. Promise.] The same voice. Just... flatter. Colder. I clicked back to Jenna's second clip. Her, giggling: "Is this really all for me?" Clip 3. Him: "Yes. Just for you, Jenna." Clip 4. Her: "But it's the company party." Clip 5. Him: "The company party didn't have fireworks. I added this. For you." Clip 6. Him: "They're just lucky they get to watch." ... Nine clips. Nine nails in the coffin of my marriage. I walked onto our balcony. From the 18th floor, I could see all of Austin. I replayed the video of us, ten years ago, on our "wedding day." The girl with the sparkler, smiling like an idiot. It doesn't matter how much they love you in the beginning. The ending is always like this. ... I heard the front door open. Liam was home. 5 He looked tired, but his anger from the phone was gone. "Stella. Can we just... not do this?" He was holding a pink envelope. The "slow-mail" letter. I'd forgotten. Ten years ago, we'd written letters to our future selves. His was addressed to me. "Stella," he'd whispered, "in ten years, you'll have your answer." A decade. A sick joke. "Liam," I asked, looking at the letter, "did you love Stella a little more today?" His face tensed. "Of course." "Of course what?" "Of course... Liam loves Stella." "Who does?" He snapped. "God, Stella, can you stop being so weird? Yes! Liam loves Stella! Are you happy?" I took the letter. I opened the faded paper. "You wrote, 'Did you love Stella a little more today?' As in, 'I, Liam.' But you didn't, did you? You gave that 'little more' to someone else." "We're not kids, Stella," he said, rubbing his temples. "I've told you. You are the only one. You are my wife." I played Jenna's video. "Jenna, did your 18-year-old wish come true?" He snatched the phone. "Are you spying on me?" When he saw it was Jenna's own post, he backpedaled. "She's... she's just a kid. She said she'd never seen a real fireworks show. It was a stupid, spontaneous thing." His excuses were pathetic. "A hundred-thousand-dollar spontaneous 'thing'? You're generous, Liam." I pointed to the papers on the table. "Sign the divorce agreement." He finally realized I was serious. "Stella, don't," he pleaded. "It's not what you think. I... she reminds me of you. When you were 20. That same... stupid, naive energy. When she said that was her 18-year-old wish... it reminded me of you. Of the sparklers. "I... I did it for you, don't you see? I was making up for what I couldn't give you." I didn't know whether to laugh or scream. He was "making up" for his past failures by giving my dream to his mistress. I sank to the floor, burying my head in my knees. He mistook my silence for grief. He knelt, wrapping his arms around me. "Stella, please. Trust me. We're us. Nothing can break us. In fact... I have good news."
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