Love to the End, Hard to Stop

On the third anniversary of my marriage, I had everything planned down to the last detail. The table was set with my husband’s favorite dishes, the lights dimmed to cast a warm, romantic glow over the dining room. I had selected a special bottle of wine, something rich and indulgent, meant to evoke fond memories of our honeymoon in Tuscany. I wore the dress he once said made me look like a goddess, my heart beating with excitement, anticipation rising as I envisioned the look on his face when he walked through the door.

But instead of the creak of the front door opening, all I received was a cold, impersonal message. The phone buzzed beside the candles I had carefully arranged: [Something came up at work. I'll be back late.]