Five Years Of Marriage And I Was A Name He’d Never Mentioned Chapter 02

Five Years Of Marriage And I Was A Name He’d Never Mentioned Chapter 02

I looked up that coffee shop.

From its tagged accounts, I found her profile.

She shot film. Posted pictures of her cat, the sky, nighttime waterfront views, pour-over coffee.

Quiet. Clean. Like a fresh page.

I scrolled down.

When I reached a night shot, my finger stopped.

That waterfront. I knew it too well.

In college, Brandon and I had walked there a hundred times.

The railing, the streetlights, the bridge in the distance—I could recognize it with my eyes closed.

The caption was one sentence.

“Someone brought me to see the most beautiful night view in this city.”

My breath turned heavy.

That was my spot.

Our spot.

But he’d already walked it again with someone else.

One more scroll. A photo of a desk.

In the corner was a fountain pen. Black barrel, silver clip.

The Montblanc I’d given Brandon.

Back when he got early admission to grad school, I saved up for a long time to buy him that pen.

He held my wrist, kissed it, and said, “Every day I use this, I’ll think of you.”

Later he said he’d lost the pen at the office.

I even searched the whole house trying to find it for him.

Turns out it wasn’t lost.

He’d given it away.

I touched my own wrist. That small patch of skin felt cold.

In another post, Ivy checked into a documentary.

The exact one Brandon had suddenly started watching recently.

I’d tried to get him to watch movies with me so many times.

He said they were boring. Not interesting. That he’d rather sleep.

Five years, and I couldn’t change a single habit of his.

Three months of Ivy, and he’d swapped his taste and hobbies.

I slowly looked toward the bedroom closet.

He’d been buying new shirts lately. Sharper cuts. Brighter colors.

I used to pull him in front of the mirror at the mall and pick out a light gray coat for him.

He said, “Guys don’t care that much.”

I signed us up for a couples gym membership.

He never went once.

I bought a whole box of hand cream. He said it was too much trouble and left it untouched.

But lately he’d started working out. Wearing cologne. Keeping his hands smooth and clean.

I married him for five years and couldn’t make him change.

Ivy showed up, and he immediately reinvented himself.

It turned out he wasn’t unwilling to get better. 　　He just wasn’t willing to get better for me.

That afternoon, I pulled out our wedding video.

In the video, Brandon stood in a black suit under the lights, holding my hand, his eyes red.

He said, “You’ll always be number one in my heart. And if that ever changes… it means I’m not here anymore.”

Back then I cried so hard I couldn’t stop.

He wiped my tears, and everyone clapped.

I turned the video off. Faced the screen down on the table.

When I looked up again, Ivy’s name was pressed tight against mine.

That night, Brandon came home very late.

There was a faint red mark on the side of his neck.

Before I could even ask, he smiled and explained, “The collar on my new shirt is a little rough.”

Then he went straight into the bathroom, washed off any trace of scent, changed into his pajamas, and got into bed, pulling me from behind.

“Hey, babe. Long day?”

He kissed the spot behind my ear. His breath was warm. His movements familiar.

Like every other night for the past five years.

But after he fell asleep, I looked at his ranking.

Number two: Ivy Simmons. Number three: Lauren Cole.

I’d finally been pushed off.

On the very night he held me, called me his wife, kissed me.

I kept my eyes open. Not a single tear fell.

Only a kind of cold that spread from deep in my eyes to every part of me.

The next morning, I opened Ivy’s waterfront night photo again.

The railing. The lights. The more I looked, the more familiar it got.

After a while, I remembered. Turn the corner past that waterfront, and there was the little diner near our college. The one we used to go to all the time.

So it wasn’t just the pen.

Wasn’t just the coffee.

Even the places we’d walked a thousand times—he’d taken someone else and walked them again.

I stared at that photo for a long time.

No anger left. No bitterness.

Just one thought.

I had to go see for myself.

See how much sincerity was left in those old places that used to be only mine—now that he was using them to romance somebody else.