Chapter 2A Three-Person Anniversary Is Two People Too Many

Seeing my silence, Michael’s patience wore thin. "Fine," he snapped, his face a mask of annoyance. "Sit here and sulk by yourself. See if I care."

With that, he took Ava's hand and stormed off.

Watching their intertwined fingers, a lump formed in my throat. Michael used to cherish my hand just like that.

He knew I had a phobia of crossing busy streets after a childhood car accident, so he would always grip my hand tightly, carefully shielding me as we navigated the traffic.

When I fainted from exhaustion after working overtime, he held my hand by my hospital bed, just so he'd be the first to know when I woke up.

I was prone to nightmares, so he held my hand every night as we slept, a silent promise that he was there, that I didn't need to be afraid.

Then Ava appeared, and his hand slowly let go of mine.

It made sense. A hand holding someone else's can't hold yours at the same time.

A wave of sadness threatened to overwhelm me. I quickly grabbed my phone and opened a short video app to distract myself. But of course, the damn algorithm recommended one of Ava’s videos.

In it, she and Michael were sitting in a dimly lit movie theater. She was happily holding a bucket of popcorn while he stroked her head, smiling and making a peace sign for the camera.

The caption read: A special day, a special movie with my favorite person.

It was sickeningly sweet and deeply ambiguous.

I couldn't resist. I clicked on her profile and scrolled through her videos. Michael was in almost all of them, and he had liked every single one.

Was this the same Michael who told me he hated having his picture taken and never liked anyone's posts?

The same Michael who refused to ever appear on my social media and had never once liked a single thing I posted.

Smack. I slammed my phone down on the table, fury coursing through me.

Tears, hot and angry, streamed down my face.

As I fumbled in my bag for a tissue, a familiar, exasperated voice sounded from above me. Michael sighed, his tone uncharacteristically gentle.

"Why do you do this to yourself? It's not worth getting so worked up over something so small."

"Hannah, Ava and I are just good friends. Can't you stop being so hostile towards her? I promise, from now on, I'll ask for your permission before I bring her out."

I looked up at him, at the man who had left and now returned, and hid the flicker of sadness in my eyes. "Michael, you made that exact same promise to me three days ago. And this is the 38th time you've made it in the past two years."

"You know you can't keep it, so why do you keep lying to me? Do you enjoy watching me get my hopes up just to be disappointed again and again?"

I knew this anniversary would be no different. I had specifically told him I wanted it to be just the two of us. He had promised, sworn even, that he wouldn't bring Ava.

But he broke his promise. Again.

And in that moment, I finally accepted it. In his heart, Ava was more important than me.

Caught in his lie, Michael looked uncomfortable. "I swear, this is the last time. From now on, you will always be my priority."

Before I could respond, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the message, and his expression turned awkward. "Hannah," he stammered, "I brought Ava out today, so I have to see her home first. Just wait for me here, okay? I'll be back for you soon."

And with that, he left me again.

I let out a cold laugh. The last shred of hope I had for him, for us, vanished completely.