He Forgot My Birthday for Her Anniversary Again Chapter 03
Last month, we had plans to see a movie.
We’d just walked into the theater when Skyler called.
She wanted him to go swimming with her.
Same hesitation. Same words. “Paige, how about you catch it another time? I’ll take you again, promise.”
He chose her over me.
I didn’t argue. After he left, I bought a bucket of popcorn and a Coke.
Walked into that theater alone for the first time.
That’s when I figured out: seeing a movie by yourself isn’t hard.
Letting go of things that were never really yours isn’t hard either.
“Fine. Whatever you say.”
My voice was calm.
Brady’s tense shoulders dropped. He sighed, almost relieved.
“You’re so understanding. Skyler’s always acting out. She’s a handful.”
He sounded like he was scolding her, but every word was soft. Indulgent.
What he didn’t know: I was never “understanding.”
I just didn’t care about him anymore.
“Oh, Skyler says there’s a new BBQ place opening on South Street. Wants us to come eat right now.”
I started to refuse.
He sighed again. “She says if we don’t show, she’ll buy ingredients and cook at our place.”
I hate the smell of BBQ in the house.
And I hate the faint gardenia scent she wears—the same one Brady wears after he’s been with her.
So we went.
We sat down. A waiter came over. “What rub or sauce on your meat?”
“Mild—” Brady started.
“Half-spicy, half-mild,” I cut in.
He looked confused. “You don’t do spicy.”
I don’t. Because he likes mild. I changed my taste to match his.
“I’ve always liked it. You just never noticed.”
I scanned the menu. Ordered things I actually liked. And a matcha ice slush.
Skyler immediately ordered a mango one.
Brady frowned. “You were crying from cramps last month. You really want cold stuff?”
He scratched out her frozen lemonade and ordered her ginger ale instead.
Skyler didn’t look mad. If anything, she beamed.
“So what if it hurts? Your hands work better than a heating pad. I’m not scared as long as you’re here.”
I used to have those cramps too.
Brady used to make me warm ginger ale with honey every single month.
Put heating pads and back supports everywhere—by the bed, on the couch.
When I was rolling in pain, his eyes would go red.
His warm palm would press against my icy stomach.
His voice would shake as he whispered, “I wish I could take the pain for you. Then you wouldn’t have to suffer.”
Back then, I felt the same as Skyler. As long as he was there, I wasn’t afraid.
But after Skyler moved here from her hometown, my bedside drawer stopped getting new heating pads.
No more warm ginger ale waiting for me.
Right now, watching them flirt like I didn’t exist, I felt like a stranger at my own table.
A waiter came over and set a milkshake with two straws between them.
“To celebrate our boss’s tenth wedding anniversary, every couple here today gets one on the house.”
