Boyfriend Chooses Another Over Me

The morning sunlight filtered through our bedroom curtains as I stared at the ceiling, replaying last night's events in my mind. The taxi driver's concerned glances in the rearview mirror. My drenched clothes dripping across our hardwood floors. The empty bed beside me.

I heard the front door open and close, followed by Zachary's familiar footsteps.

"Morning, beautiful," he called out, his voice chipper as if nothing had happened. "I brought your favorite—blueberry muffins and that vanilla latte you like."

I sat up slowly, my hair still damp from the shower I'd taken after returning home. "You're back."

"Of course I'm back." He appeared in the doorway, coffee tray in hand, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "I missed you last night."

The casual way he delivered those words made my chest tighten. "You missed me because you were with Leila."

His smile faltered for just a moment. "She really needed me, Noemi. Her car broke down in that storm, and she was stranded."

"And that's why you couldn't pick me up from the airport?" My voice remained steady, though inside I was screaming. "I waited for two hours, Zachary."

"I texted you about traffic." He set the coffee on my nightstand, his expression softening into something that looked almost genuine. "I'm sorry you got caught in the rain. Next time, I'll be more specific."

Next time. As if there would be many more occasions where I'd need to understand why he wasn't there.

"Leila really needed me," he repeated, sitting on the edge of the bed. "You should understand my loyalty to friends."

Before I could respond, his phone buzzed. He glanced at it, and I watched his expression change.

"Everything okay?" I asked.

"Just Leila." He typed quickly. "She needs help moving some furniture today."

Of course she did.

---

"You seem distracted today," Marcus said, his office door closed behind us as he gestured to the chair across from his desk.

I smoothed my skirt, trying to focus. "Just some personal things."

Marcus Chen, my boss of three years, studied me with kind eyes that never missed anything. "Your campaign proposals have been brilliant lately. The London team is particularly impressed."

"Thank you," I said, surprised by the praise.

"That's actually why I wanted to talk to you." He leaned forward. "We're expanding the London branch, and they need someone to head up the creative division. For a year."

My breath caught. "London?"

"A full year abroad, with a team of fifteen reporting to you." Marcus slid a folder across the desk. "You'd be perfect for it, Noemi. You've been dimming your light here lately, and I think this could be exactly what you need."

I stared at the folder, imagining myself walking through London streets, living independently, building something that was entirely mine.

"I don't know if I can—" I started, thinking of Zachary.

"Why not?" Marcus interrupted gently. "You're single, talented, and you deserve this opportunity."

Was I single? The question hung in my mind as I thought of Zachary's constant distraction, his priorities that never seemed to include me anymore.

"I'll think about it," I finally said.

---

I spent extra time preparing dinner that evening—Zachary's favorite pasta dish, the one he'd raved about when we first started dating. The table was set with candles, and I'd even opened a bottle of wine.

"You didn't have to go to all this trouble," he said, sitting down but keeping his phone in his hand.

"I wanted to," I replied, pouring him a glass.

His phone buzzed again. And again. And again.

"Is everything okay?" I asked.

"Just Leila," he muttered, fingers flying across the screen. "Her family's going through some drama."

I took a bite of my pasta, watching as his thumbs moved rapidly. "Could you maybe put your phone away for dinner? Just for a little while?"

His head snapped up, eyes narrowing. "She's going through a rough time, Noemi. This isn't about us."

"I know, but—"

"You're being clingy." He set his phone down but kept glancing at it. "I can't just ignore her when she needs support."

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. We ate in silence after that, the candlelight flickering between us like a dying signal.

As I cleared the plates, I realized I couldn't remember the last time we'd had a conversation that didn't revolve around Leila or Zachary's obligations to everyone but me.

The London folder sat on our kitchen counter, its presence suddenly impossible to ignore.