5
By the time he came home, dinner was already on the table.
Our last dinner together.
I had taken my time, spent the entire afternoon carefully preparing it. Every ingredient was fresh, handpicked, and perfect.
Oliver walked in with a bandage wrapped around his forehead and a bag of fish in his hand. He hesitated for a moment before sitting down at the table, looking at the spread like he didn’t know what to say.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he managed a half–hearted compliment.
“Dinner looks great tonight. You really outdid yourself. The fish… I’ll just put it in the fridge. Maybe I’ll try cooking tomorrow.”
“Mm.”
Oliver took the biggest piece of fish from the platter and placed it on my plate. “Anna, you’ve worked hard. You should eat first.”
D
<
“Thanks, but I don’t like fish.”
I’ve never liked fish, actually. The only reason I ever cooked it was because Oliver loved it. For the past seven years, I had pretended it didn’t bother me.
But now? I wasn’t pretending anymore.
His face paled. He swallowed hard before speaking, his voice stiff and awkward.
“Okay… fine. I admit it. I lost my temper today, and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”
He looked at me, trying to gauge my reaction, and continued, “But I’m a man, Anna. What was I supposed to do? Stand by and let a woman get hurt? You’re not the type to hold a grudge. You’re understanding like that.”
Yes, I was understanding. So understanding that I had decided to let him go–to give him and Luna my blessing.
His phone buzzed on the table, breaking the silence.
It was his best friend calling. Oliver sighed, annoyed, and put the call on speaker.
“What is it? I’m having dinner with my wife.”
The voice on the other end sounded panicked.
“Oliver, it’s Luna. The guys from this morning came back and tried to corner her. We chased them off, but she’s shaken up, man. She’s crying nonstop. Do you want to come?”
The guy hesitated and quickly added, “But you know what? Never mind. Stay with Anna. We can handle it.”
In the background, I could hear Luna sobbing louder and louder. Her cries were high–pitched and dramatic, the kind that crawled under your skin and made it impossible to think straight.
I looked at Oliver. His eyes darted to me, then back to the phone, and I could see it–the panic.
His body was already half out of the chair, instinctively wanting to go to her. He didn’t even need to think about it.
“Sit down,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “You’re halfway through dinner. I spent five hours making this. Everything here is your favorite.”
“Can you at least finish this meal with me?”
He froze, his knuckles white as he gripped the phone, torn between two choices.
“Anna… but she’s crying,” he said finally, his voice hesitant, almost pleading.
“It’s just one meal,” he added, trying to justify himself. “We have plenty of time to eat together later, don’t we?”
He still thought we had a future.
I stepped aside, giving him a clear path to the door.
“Go,” I said quietly. “Just don’t regret it.”
Oliver stared at me, his lips pressed tightly together, as though he wanted to say something.
He hadn’t expected me to let him go so easily. No anger, no jealousy, no fight.
Before leaving, he asked repeatedly if I was feeling okay, promising he’d be back soon.
“Whenever you’re done,” I replied, my tone casual.
It didn’t matter to me anymore.
This was our last dinner together, and he had just walked out on his final chance.
the door closed behind him Larabbed ma
10:32 AM
<
By the time Oliver came back, I’d be long gone.
On the plane, I fell asleep almost immediately. The divorce papers were left neatly on the desk in his home office, ready for him to sign as soon as he got back.
When the plane landed, my phone lit up with a storm of missed calls and messages. Oliver had finally realized what he’d lost.
But it was too late.
