His smile widened, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "A love letter, isn’t it? You’ve always been so romantic. I still remember how we promised in college to write each other a love letter every year, to keep the magic alive."
He sighed, his expression turning nostalgic. "It’s been ten years since we started dating. Honey, you’re amazing—you never forget the little things. I’m so lucky to have you."
I smiled and nodded, keeping up the charade.
For the past ten years, I had written him a love letter each year, just as he claimed. But they never left my drawer, gathering dust instead of memories. Now, as I thought about it, those letters deserved the same fate as my feelings—a quiet, decisive end.
The staff sighed in admiration around us, their voices full of playful envy.
“Mr. Barnes, you and your wife are the definition of true love! Ten years and still going strong!”
Another colleague chimed in, pulling a mock pout, “Please, Mr. Barnes, stop flaunting your love! It’s almost criminal how perfect you two are!”