The morning had started poorly, with an inexplicable heaviness settling in her limbs. Sarah dragged herself to the coffee machine, the scent of fresh brew doing little to lift her spirits. Then, the text came: "Lunch at The Bistro? Gotta celebrate! New promotion!" Liam's usual exclamation point practically screamed from the screen. She texted back a reluctant "Sure."
Liam, beaming as usual, was already seated when she arrived. He talked animatedly about the "massive responsibility" of his new role at the law firm, gesturing wildly with his hands. Sarah poked at her salad, the leaves suddenly tasting like cardboard. The details he offered—the late nights, the high-profile clients—seemed overly polished, like a well-rehearsed performance. A knot formed in her stomach, heavy and uncomfortable. He'd always been a bit theatrical, but today, something felt off, like the air itself was stale.
Later that week, she found him at the park, not in a suit but in jeans, pushing a stroller. She watched him, an odd feeling creeping over her. She knew he wasn't married, and definitely didn't have kids. She felt suddenly depleted. "Fancy seeing you here?" she asked, her voice sounding flat even to her own ears. "Oh, hey," he said, and he looked defeated.