Our Fifth Anniversary Became My Exit Plan

My husband, Yosef Sinclair, didn't make it home until 2:00 am.

He walked straight to the kitchen carrying a large bag of bread and stocked the fridge with unusual patience.

Only then did he notice me sitting in the dark living room.

He froze for a moment before asking, "Shouldn't you be in bed? Why are you sitting in the dark?"

The warm glow of the light flickered on, making me blink.

I looked right at Yosef and asked with a trembling voice, "Do you remember what day yesterday was?"

Yosef paused, thinking for a moment before making tentative guesses. "Is Clara's bakery lease up for renewal? Or is it time for her checkup?"

My chest tightened, and my voice came out hoarse. "It was our fifth wedding anniversary."

He let out a sigh of relief, and his expression instantly relaxed. "Is that all? You're not a teenager anymore. Why do you still care about these silly dates?"

My words caught in my throat. The pain was so intense that I could barely breathe.

Silly dates?

Back when we started the company, we didn't have a dime to spare. On our anniversary, all we could afford was a single cup of instant noodles and a pair of sausages.

We crammed into a tiny rented room where we couldn't even stretch our legs, sharing that single cup.

Yosef had pushed both sausages to my side, insisting I eat more. His eyes had shone with absolute devotion, as if he'd pluck the stars out of the sky for me if I asked.

Holding my hands in his, he had made a solemn promise. "Once we make it, we won't have to settle like this. I'll take you out for the finest dinners every single anniversary."

Now, he couldn't even bother to celebrate our milestones.

A bitter taste filled my mouth as I forced myself to swallow.

Refusing to give up, I looked up at Yosef and rasped, "Why didn't you reply to my texts?"

He seemed to remember something. He pulled out his phone, scrolled to the very bottom of his notifications, and turned the mute setting off for my chat.

My heart sank at the sight of it.

Once he was done, he finally opened my messages. As he read them, a hint of guilt flashed across his face.

While he was racking his brain for an excuse, a special notification tone suddenly chimed.

The moment Yosef heard that, a gentle warmth spread across his face without him realizing it.

He tapped into the chat, and his fingers flew across the keyboard to send message after message.

It was as if the argument hadn't even happened. He walked toward the balcony out of pure habit.

Left behind, I waited for an explanation that never came.

The faint clicking of his typing echoed through the quiet room. It pulled at the tension inside me, fraying my nerves until something finally snapped.

I wiped away my tears and turned my back on the melting black swan ice cream cake on the table.

I walked into the bedroom and started packing.

More than an hour passed before Yosef finally wandered in. He stopped short, taking in the sudden empty spaces.

Seeing my open suitcase, he raised an eyebrow. "What's with the bags? Got a last-minute work trip?"

I hummed in reply without looking up.

He frowned, then sank onto the edge of the mattress, watching me in silence.

After a few minutes, he got bored. He stood back up and prepared to leave.

As he walked out, he held his phone in his hand with a faint smile on his lips.

I was left alone in the room. Just then, my phone buzzed with a message.

"Vandor Hotel: Your reservation for November 5th is confirmed. Please reply to acknowledge. Safe travels!"

With a slight tremor in my fingers, I replied, "Thank you."