His words stung, dredging up memories of past anniversaries and birthdays when I had poured my heart into celebrating him. Dinners planned, decorations chosen with care—all my efforts to show him how much he meant to me. I remembered the surprise party I’d organized, only for him to pull me aside, embarrassed by the attention. “You’re making such a big deal out of this, Celeste. Everyone’s looking at us. I'm getting uncomfortable, you know?” His words had turned what was meant to be a joyous occasion into a painful one.
Now, there was nothing left to celebrate. The spark that once ignited our relationship had long since extinguished.
“Come on, let’s go have dinner and celebrate,” he urged, ushering me into the car.
As he drove, silence filled the space between us, thick and oppressive. He kept glancing at me, searching for a flicker of the old enthusiasm that used to light up my face on such occasions.
“Hey, what’s wrong? Are you upset?” he finally asked, his voice tinged with frustration.
“No,” I replied, shaking my head. My voice was flat, and emotionless, a stark contrast to the turmoil inside me.