"But you don't know what my favorite food is," I said. "You don't know when I get off work. You don't know that I'm afraid of the dark, afraid of thunder, afraid of being alone. You don't know that every time I sat in this apartment waiting for you, waiting past midnight, waiting until I fell asleep, all I'd get was a text saying you weren't coming home."
"I—"
"You don't even know what today is." I said. "November seventeenth. Ten years since we got together. I waited a whole year for this day. I thought you'd remember. I thought you'd surprise me—even just a word, even just a text."
He went quiet.
"Instead, what I got was her sitting on your lap." I let out a short laugh. "Great surprise. Really outdid yourself."
"Don't do this—"
"Valentine." I said. "You just told me you love me. So tell me. What do you love about me?"
He froze.
I waited.
The rain stopped.
"What do you love about me?" I asked again. "That I'm pretty? That I'm good to you? That I'm obedient? That I never cause you trouble?"
Still nothing.
"You don't love me." I said. "You love easy. You love convenient. You love that no matter how you treat me, I'll never leave."
"I don't—"