I'd felt so sorry for him. I'd stayed up with him, rubbing his back, bringing him medicine.
I'd even wondered why, with the company doing so well, he still had to push himself so hard to wine and dine clients.
Now I understood. It was never about the clients. It was about Sylvia.
My friend went on. She told me Eugene had a habit of taking the stomach-soothing meals I packed for him and giving them to Sylvia.
Because Sylvia had a sensitive stomach.
And every lunch break, the two of them would hole up in the conference room together, feeding each other bite by bite.
The color drained from my face. I pressed a hand over my mouth, fighting the urge to vomit.
My friend handed me a glass of water, her expression torn.
"Do you remember your birthday? You were planning to propose to Eugene..."
"Sylvia found out and threw a fit. So Eugene deliberately scheduled an overseas conference and took her on a business trip to cheer her up."
She pulled up Sylvia's social media and showed me.
There was Sylvia, beaming, kissing Eugene beneath the Eiffel Tower.
"I can't have you forever, but I can have you for now."