It’s Christmas Eve

She sat at the kitchen table and looked down at her left hand. The wedding band already seemed alien to her, like it didn’t belong.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “But I really do love her.”

He wiped a tear from his eye and she wondered what he had to cry about. It was he who had made the choice. This was all in his hands.

“So what now?” she asked.

“I have a cab waiting for me downstairs,” he said, more to his feet than to her.

“It’s Christmas Eve,” she said.

“I know,” he replied. “Let’s not make this any more painful than it needs to be.”

She felt her eyebrows raise but she remained calm. He flinched as his fingers tightened around the handle of his suitcase. He dipped his head and slipped out of the apartment quietly. The door clicked shut behind him and she was bathed in a heavy silence.

She removed her ring from her finger and dropped it into the champagne flute on the table in front of her. She was reminded of the day that he proposed as she swilled the ring around in her glass. He had dropped it into her glass that day, as they sat in the fancy restaurant. It had been the happiest day of her life.

Without thinking, she pulled the glass back and forcefully launched it at the closed door. It smashed satisfyingly against the wood, glass skittering across the floor. It was over. She smiled a half smile as she rose to her feet and left the room.

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