Part 1I Became Compliant After We Reconciled, He Still Wanted More

After our reconciliation, I became the perfect, docile partner. No jealousy, no tracking his location, no probing his private life. When I found a strange man’s tie draped across our bed, I didn’t blink. I simply folded it neatly on his nightstand.

McDonald, reviewing documents against the headboard, went rigid. Color drained from his face. In the suffocating silence, he pinched his nose, exhausted. "Last night’s gala," he explained. "I borrowed Silas’s tie for my suit. Forgot to return it before coming home." He looked away. "No outsiders were in our bedroom."

A lie. I’d chosen every scent in this house. Last night, before he entered, a heavy wave of unfamiliar cologne had hit me. I retched, throwing open windows until I could breathe again. For years, I’d endured this. Whenever he spent hours locked with Silas, that scent clung to him, leaving me vomiting through the night. Disgust, jealousy, humiliation—it all festered. But confronting him only earned cold rebukes about being unreasonable. We’d broken up over Silas countless times, yet he remained by McDonald’s side.

It didn’t matter anymore. I lowered my eyes. I was leaving soon anyway.

My silence only made the air in the room heavier. McDonald let out a heavy sigh, offering a rare, unsolicited explanation.

"How many times do I have to say this before you get it through your head? Silas is my uncle's stepson. Our families were close back in the day, and we practically grew up together. That's the only reason I look out for him at work."

"Other than that, there is absolutely nothing going on between us."

I had heard this excuse a thousand times. In the past, I would have lost my mind, screaming and dripping with sarcasm about his perfectly crafted corporate excuses.

This time, I just gave a slight nod.

"Okay. I believe you."

I was agreeing with him, yet he looked as if I had just punched him in the gut. His expression darkened.

"You really don't care?"

Before I could nod again, his phone rang.

It was a custom ringtone Silas had recorded on McDonald's phone himself. A soft, acoustic hum of a sugary pop song, sung in Silas's clear, bright voice. No matter how you listened to it, it dripped with an unmistakable, teasing seduction.

I had gotten into physical screaming matches with McDonald over that ringtone at least five times. Now, looking at his tense, furrowed brow, I spoke with total calm.

"Answer it. Don't keep him waiting."

McDonald froze. He hesitated for a long moment before swiping to answer.

I didn't care what they were talking about. I turned to walk out of the room, but his hand shot out and caught my wrist.

Whatever the person on the other end said, McDonald murmured a few gentle agreements, his brow softening. He hung up and looked at me.

"Let's go to The Zenith in a few days. You know, that starlight restaurant you've been wanting to try."

When I just stared at him blankly, a rare smile broke across his face.

"I promised you, didn't I? I told you I'd never neglect you again."

"Don't worry. For our sixth anniversary this time, I'm going to make it perfect for you."

I stood rooted to the spot. It wasn't until he changed his clothes and left the house that the strength vanished from my legs. I collapsed onto the floor and started laughing.

It was absolutely hilarious. The very first anniversary we were actually going to celebrate properly was already our sixth.

Did he honestly believe that a fancy dinner could compensate for five years of neglect?

A shattered mirror can never be put back together.