Never mind that Connor worked sixty-hour weeks himself at his firm.

Never mind his own missed dinners, the business calls he took during our anniversaries, or the long weekends he spent locked away in his home office. The rules had always been entirely different for me.

“I enjoy my work, and it keeps me fulfilled,” I said.

“Oh, I know it does,” he countered with a smirk.

A young couple sitting nearby exchanged glances, clearly sensing what the conversation really was. Most people can read the room in situations like this. There’s a particular sound to public humiliation before it fully arrives—a tightening of voices, a pause that stretches too long, a smile that doesn’t belong on a human face.

Connor took a step closer to me. “I guess some things never change with you.”

Melinda shifted uncomfortably on her feet. “Connor, maybe we should go.”

“What?” He shrugged carelessly, looking around the room. “We’re all adults here, Melinda.”

I knew that exact look on his face, because he was actively performing for an audience. Some people naturally avoid public attention, but Connor always needed to be the center of it.

Then he delivered the line he’d probably been waiting a year to say. “Leaving you was truly the best decision I ever made.”