"Curtis, thank you for helping me revisit our college memories. The dessert tastes exactly the way it used to. Just like you…"

Every shred of hesitation, every thread of doubt—gone in an instant.

A fine, dense pain spread through my chest, threaded with nausea.

I didn't understand how one heart could hold two people at the same time.

Curtis came out of the bathroom with his hair still damp, steam clinging to his skin.

"What's wrong? Aren't you the one who always says there's nothing a slice of strawberry cake can't fix?"

Just like every other time I was upset, he scooped up a bite of cake and held the spoon to my lips. Tender. Practiced.

I turned my face away.

"Curtis, let's break up."

I used to be so certain he loved me.

He remembered my cramps came every month and always had ginger tea ready before I even asked. He knew I was afraid of the dark and never forgot to leave the nightlight on. No matter how late his business dinners ran, as long as he was sober enough to type, he'd send me a goodnight text. His plans for the future always included me. He'd even picked out names for our children.

But when I thought about that diary in the drawer, the certainty crumbled.

I'd come home that afternoon and couldn't resist any longer. I opened the drawer.

Beneath the yellowed photograph was a journal.

"April 3, 2017. Lena said she's like my shadow—wherever there's light, we'll never be apart. She's always afraid the light will go out and I won't be able to find her. How could that happen? She's taken root inside my heart. The only way to lose her would be to cut the heart out entirely."

"May 20, 2017. Lena gave me a photo of us together. She said we'd never be separated."

"August 15, 2017. Her mother's condition worsened. She cried so hard she couldn't breathe. I wanted to fly to her side, but I couldn't get time off during my internship. I wired her money. She sent it back. She said, 'Curtis, what we have shouldn't be tainted by money.'"

"October 22, 2017. She's decided to take a leave of absence and go home to care for her mother. She smiled at me through the glass, but it looked worse than crying. She told me to live well—her share too. But Lena, without you, how am I supposed to live at all?"

"January 3, 2018. She's busy. I can never reach her. It feels like the tide going out, and I can't hold on to anything."