The only dessert I can bake decently is cupcakes.
But for some reason, every attempt I made today failed.
I didn’t want to waste food, so I silently ate all the failed cupcakes.
I counted the time.
Once Zelda came back and finished celebrating her birthday, it would be time for me to leave.
But in the end, I didn’t get to wait for her.
She called me.
“Luigi, that idiot, burned his fingers while cooking. I have to take him to the hospital first. You go ahead and eat without me.”
Oh, her lies had always been really terrible.
I couldn’t see her updates on my main Facebook account.
But on my alternate account, a new post appeared in her Story.
The picture showed two people standing in front of a cake.
Colorful confetti floated in the air, frozen in a moment where they smiled and held hands.
“Wallace? Wallace?” Zelda was still on the line.
I let out a long breath.
“It’s fine, no rush.”
I liked her post from my alternate account, and then I dumped the cupcakes into the trash.
Zelda no longer loved me; letting her go should make her happy.
So then I dragged my suitcase and left the house.
On the way, I sorted through years’ worth of confusing photos of Eugene and Zelda.
Then I posted them to my Story.