It was supposed to be a special night—my birthday. I had spent hours getting everything just right, and then I waited. And waited. Hours passed, and still, no sign of Sam Walker. No message. No call. Just silence that grew louder with every passing minute.

Then I saw it.

A photo popped up on Instagram. He was sitting comfortably on a sofa, a soft smile on his face—not with me, but with her. His first love, Eleanor. She had posted the picture with a caption that pierced deeper than any excuse ever could: “You are the source of my sense of security.”
I ...

It was supposed to be a special night—my birthday. I had spent hours getting everything just right, and then I waited. And waited. Hours passed, and still, no sign of Sam Walker. No message. No call. Just silence that grew louder with every passing minute.

Then I saw it.

A photo popped up on Instagram. He was sitting comfortably on a sofa, a soft smile on his face—not with me, but with her. His first love, Eleanor. She had posted the picture with a caption that pierced deeper than any excuse ever could: “You are the source of my sense of security.”
I should have been furious. I should have screamed, cried, and demanded an explanation. That would’ve made sense. But instead, I just stared at the screen, frozen, realizing that sometimes, betrayal doesn’t come with a loud bang. Sometimes, it comes in the form of quiet absence, and a picture that tells you everything you need to know.