The waiter smirked. “James has been seeing someone else. That ring was meant for his girlfriend.”
My legs buckled. “What?”
“His girlfriend,” the waiter repeated. “Her name’s Chloe. She works downtown.”
James went pale. “It was a mistake. It didn’t mean anything.”
I laughed bitterly. “A mistake? Buying a ring and giving it to someone else is a betrayal.”
The room fell silent as I demanded the truth. How long? How many lies?
James reached for me, but I recoiled. “We can fix this,” he said. “I love you.”
I stood, the chair scraping loudly. Holding the ring in my hand, I dropped it back on the plate. “This is yours. Give it to Chloe—or whoever’s next.”
Applause erupted as I walked out, leaving James and his lies behind. The cold night air was a shock, but for the first time in years, I felt free. Broken, but free.
That night, I realized: truth, no matter how painful, clears the way for something real. And for the first time in fourteen years, I was ready to find it.