The Day I Stopped Loving You

Sienna

You know you're getting cheated on when your strictly private husband accidentally goes live on Instagram at midnight.

The camera showed Chloe—the newest streamer signed to his company—wearing cute fluffy ears, blushing under the neon lights of a late-night gastro-pub. Ethan's voice boomed in the background, laughing softly: "Look at this cute little foodie."

In five years of marriage, I had never once been featured on his phone screen. But here she was.

By the time someone commented, "Dude, wrong account!", the stream violently cut out.

Next thing I knew, my screen flared up with Ethan's contact name.

In the past, I would've lost my mind and confronted him right then and there.

Tonight, I just watched the missed call counter hit zero and laid down to sleep.

—

By the time Ethan unlocked the front door, I was practically passed out on the couch.

He tossed his keys into the entryway dish and bent over to unlace his shoes, his movement unusually deliberate.

"Why'd you ignore my calls?"

He was testing the waters. Ethan rarely came at me with that cautious tone unless his conscience was kicking up a storm.

I didn't even bother opening my eyes completely. "Fell asleep. Must've missed it."

"The IPO post-party ran way longer than expected," he said, taking off his jacket. "You really don't need to stay up waiting for me every single time, Sienna. It's not healthy to revolve your whole life around me."

Once upon a time, I would've eagerly defended myself, pouring my heart out about how I stayed up purely out of love and care for him.

Now, wasting my breath felt like a complete waste of energy.

Ethan reached into his coat and slid a sleek black velvet box across the glass coffee table toward me.

Today was supposed to be his company's big milestone—the official IPO day.

I'd clocked out early, bought fresh ingredients, cooked an elaborate dinner, and waited for hours to celebrate with him. Instead, he'd stood me up, coming home near midnight reeking faintly of craft beer and smoky bourbon BBQ sauce.

I didn't acknowledge the smell. I just cast a indifferent glance at the box.

The design was all too familiar. Tiffany & Co., classic silver ribbon.

Ethan observed my lack of reaction. His jaw tightened, and the softness in his voice instantly evaporated.

"Sienna, can you for once not act so difficult?"

Buying high-end jewelry was always his go-to strategy for buying forgiveness.

As long as I took the box, we were expected to act like nothing ever happened—sweeping every insult and lie right under the rug.

Except tonight, I refused to play along. And my silence was driving him insane.

"Here, let me put it on you."

Without waiting for my permission, he popped the box open and pulled out a delicate diamond necklace. But as he reached toward my neck, his fingers went completely rigid.

There was already a carbon-copy necklace sitting snugly against my collarbone—the exact same gift he had given me last month for our wedding anniversary.

"Save it," I said, stepping back and brushing his hands away. "I'm heading to bed. Big day tomorrow."

Ethan stared at his own hands, his expression darkening. "I'll get my secretary to trade it for a different piece later this week."

"Don't bother," I replied quietly without looking back. "I don't need it."