Married to a Retired Playboy

Rain lashed against the office building windows, blurring the cityscape into an impressionist painting. Inside, Vanessa gripped the phone tighter, her knuckles white against the purple one white plastic pouch. Three years. Three years of dating Emmy. Yet, every year, Emmy seems to work with the calendar as they conspire against their relationship, swallowing their anniversary whole.

“I will visit him at his office, today” Vanessa told Carolyn over the phone. “I will have to remind him myself….. like I do every year” she added as sadness laced in her voice.

"Are you sure about this, Vani?" Carolyn's voice, a familiar blend of concern and worry, crackled through the receiver. "Just popping in unannounced? Emmy might be in a meeting."

Vanessa winced. Meetings. That was Emmy's default excuse. Meetings that stretched late, demanded his undivided attention, and conveniently erased any memory of champagne toasts and whispered "I love you's."

"He always has meetings," Vanessa muttered, her voice laced with a bitterness she tried to mask. "Maybe if I remind him in person..."

The sentence trailed off. Even to her own ears, it sounded flimsy, a desperate attempt to salvage a day that already felt lost. Carolyn sighed, a sound heavy with understanding.

"Look," she said, her voice gentling, "why not call him first? A heads-up, a casual 'thinking of you' kind of thing? Then, if he reacts weirdly, you'll know what you're dealing with, right?"

Vanessa considered this, a flicker of hope igniting in her chest. A casual call, a subtle reminder. Maybe, just maybe, this year would be different.

With a newfound resolve, she disconnected the call and scrolled through her phone's contacts. Her finger hovered over Emmy's name, a familiar pang of nervousness twisting in her gut. Today, she would find out. Today, the truth, whatever it may be, would come out. Taking a deep breath, she pressed the call button, the sound echoing in her ear as it connected.

Unfortunately, no answer. She called him three times before she considered sending a text to him.

“Hey, I'm coming over to your office. Hope you are not busy?” She sent the short text, omitting the important part which was their anniversary.

Minutes pass into minutes as she waited for him to text back but he was not replying. What can he be doing? Is he in a meeting? These questions flooded her mind as doubt began to swell in her heart. She noticed Emmy's strange behavior but she has been ignoring those signs, for three years, she had been committed to the relationship, hoping her boyfriend will change his nonchalant attitude towards dates, anniversary, champagne toast and other couple-stuff.

Changing her mind, she decided to visit Emmy at his office. She needs to see him in person so they can talk things out before it gets out of hands.

Frustration simmered alongside the rain outside as Vanessa stormed out of the office building.

The once gentle drizzle had morphed into a steady downpour, the wind whipping the rain into sheets that blurred the city lights. Clutching a flimsy umbrella that offered little protection, she sprinted across the slick sidewalk, her heels clicking a frantic rhythm against the wet pavement.

Reaching the parking garage, she ducked under the overhang, gasping for breath. The dim, fluorescent lights cast a sickly glow on the rows of gleaming new cars. Vanessa's gaze, however, landed on a different occupant – a dented, cherry red Ford nestled in a forgotten corner. Rain hammered against its faded paint, leaving rivulets that traced the countless scratches and dings that served as a map of past fender benders.

"Rusty," Vanessa muttered affectionately, reaching for the well-worn key fob. This wasn't the sleek sports car she'd dreamt of but Rusty, her companion, had never let her down. With a sigh, she climbed into the worn leather interior, a familiar scent of lavender greeted her.

The engine coughed and sputtered to life, protesting the damp weather with a series of disgruntled coughs. Vanessa chuckled, the sound laced with a hint of exasperation and a whole lot of fondness. Rusty wasn't perfect, far from it, but today, amidst the chaos and frustration, he was exactly what she needed – a loyal friend and a reliable, albeit slightly rusty, steed to carry her towards whatever Emmy's office held.

The polished chrome of the elevator doors whooshed open, revealing a scene Vanessa hadn't dared to imagine. Her carefully chosen outfit, a mix of power suit and playful femininity, suddenly felt like a costume for a play gone horribly wrong.

Emmy's office door was ajar, a sliver of light escaping like a silent scream. Vanessa's heart hammered against her ribs, a stark counterpoint to the hushed sounds filtering through the gap. Curiosity, a morbid fascination, propelled her forward.

One hesitant step, then another. The plush carpet muffled the sound of her approach, allowing her to witness a scene ripped from a bad soap opera. Emmy, her Emmy, her boyfriend for three years, was entangled with his usually prim and proper secretary, their clothes strewn across the otherwise immaculate office floor.

The air hung heavy with the stench of betrayal, a suffocating miasma that stole the breath from Vanessa's lungs. A choked sob escaped her lips, a tiny sound that shattered the scene. Emmy's head snapped up, his face a mask of surprise morphing into panicked horror as their eyes met. The secretary, scrambling to cover herself, mirrored his expression.

Time seemed to slow down, the scene around Vanessa sharpening into painful clarity. The gilded picture frame on the bookshelf, holding a picture of them, two smiling faces, a lifetime ago. The vase overflowing with lilies, their anniversary flower, now a cruel mockery.

The carefully constructed world she'd built with Emmy crumbled around her. In its place, a gaping chasm of betrayal yawned, threatening to swallow her whole.A primal roar erupted from Vanessa's throat, a sound raw with fury and heartbreak. The scene before her blurred as tears welled in her eyes. The secretary, a startled deer caught in headlights, bolted from the office, fumbling to clutch at her clothes.

Vanessa ignored her, her focus solely on Emmy. With a surge of adrenaline, she crossed the room, the distance between them evaporating in a heartbeat. Her hand, propelled by a white-hot rage, connected with a resounding smack across his face.

"Three years!" she screamed, the words punctuated by choked sobs. "Three anniversaries you forgot, you lying weasel!"

Emmy, stunned by the sudden attack, reacted instinctively. His hand flew up, mirroring her blow. The impact sent a jolt of pain through Vanessa's cheek, a physical manifestation of the emotional earthquake ripping through her.

“How dare you raised your hands on me” she said as her anger slowly turns to sadness. Her boyfriend slapped her because she caught him cheating on her with his secretary.

“I'm sorry for hitting you….. it was a mistake, I didn't mean to do it” Emmy apologize for hitting her but he is not sorry for cheating on her on their anniversary.

The slap did little to quell her fury. It was a final, desperate attempt to salvage a shred of dignity, a punctuation mark on a love story gone tragically wrong.

In a voice thick with emotion, she choked out the words that would sever the ties that bound them. "It's over, Emmy. We're done."

Tears streamed down her face, each one a silent accusation washing away the years of stolen moments and whispered promises. With a final, lingering look at the man who had betrayed her trust, Vanessa turned and fled the office.

The rain outside, which had seemed a mere annoyance moments ago, now mirrored the tempest raging within her. Each pounding drop was a cleansing tear, washing away the debris of a love that had crumbled to dust.