ONE NIGHT TOO LATE

Anne's POV "Ten years," I whispered to myself the moment I opened my eyes this morning. I let the number settle in my chest like warm honey. Ten years of loving someone, of choosing him every single day, even when he didn’t have anything to offer but promises and potential. Ten years of sacrifice, loyalty, forgiveness, and blind faith. Ten years of pouring love, care and even my money into this. And today,......today was supposed to be the reward. When I checked my phone, there was no good morning text. No calls. No “Happy Anniversary, babe.” Not even a heart emoji. I could’ve panicked. But no, I told myself, He’s planning something. I always made excuses for him. I hope this one would be different . Dave always tried to be unpredictable. The few times he got it right, it was sweet. When he surprised me with breakfast on our third anniversary. When he borrowed a friend’s car to take me to the beach because I’d been feeling low. I know all these are bare minimum but whatever!! Moments like that kept me going, kept me believing in us. And today? Today, he was going to propose. I could feel it in my bones. My heart was giddy. My smile was glued to my face all through my morning routine. I played love songs while brushing my teeth and danced in front of the mirror like a woman already wearing a ring. I’d seen the signs, he’d been acting weird for the past week. Secretive. Distant. Nervous, even. I convinced myself it was nerves. Engagement nerves. After breakfast, I tidied my tiny apartment. Everything felt brighter, cleaner, newer. Even the floor sparkled beneath my feet like it knew something good was coming. At noon, I headed out for my glow-up mission. The wax parlor hurt like hell, but I giggled through it. It was all worth it. I imagined him lifting my hand, tears in his eyes, slipping that ring onto my finger. I imagined myself crying, messy, joyful sobs. I imagined calling my mother, screaming, "He finally did it, Mama! I told you he was not a loser." Then came my nails, a simple nude with gold accents. Classy. Timeless. Fiancée-ready. I picked out the red dress from a boutique at the mall. It hugged all the right places. It said, I'm in love, and maybe also I'm worth every single second you waited to make this official. As I sat in the makeup artist’s chair, I kept checking my phone. Nothing. No text. No call. Still, I smiled. He must be freaking out somewhere, making sure everything was perfect or may just be part of the surprise. I imagined the proposal venue,maybe dinner at that rooftop place he once said he couldn’t afford, but swore he’d take me one day. Maybe rose petals. Maybe his friends hiding with cameras. Or something low-key and intimate, the way I secretly liked it. Once I was fully ready, I stood in front of my mirror. For a moment, I didn’t breathe. My skin was glowing. My hair was soft curls around my shoulders. My lips were plump with peach gloss. My heart beat so hard I could feel it in my ears. Anne Idia. Soon-to-be fiancée.I said my hands without a ring in the air. It was happening. The Bolt ride to his place was quiet. I stared out the window, my phone gripped in my hand. Still nothing. I kept refreshing my messages like maybe the network was playing games. But I didn’t worry. Not yet. He stayed in a two-bedroom apartment. One I helped pay for. When he lost his last job during the pandemic, I stepped in paid rent for six months straight, bought groceries, handled his electricity bills. and even bailed him out of a quick loan he couldn’t repay. I never kept tabs. I loved him.. Like you always say " Love is blind" That was what love meant, right? Being there when the world turned its back on him. Believing in his dreams, even when they seemed farther away with each passing year. I helped build this man. So today, he would honor that. I stepped out of the car, heart pounding. I climbed the stairs slowly, savoring the moment. I imagined walking into the room and seeing candles. Flowers. Maybe even his nervous smile as he got down on one knee. His front door was slightly open. I smiled. He's not done setting up. I probably came too early. The music was playing, something fast and loud. Odd choice for a proposal. But Dave was unpredictable. I stepped inside, careful not to ruin the surprise. “Babe?” I called out softly, the word floating through the air like a whisper of promise. No answer. I walked further inside. The couch was a mess. A bottle of Hennessy stood open on the table, next to two glasses. I paused. My hand tightened on my clutch. I walked toward the hallway, heart racing. “Dave?” I called again, louder this time. Still no answer. Maybe he was changing. Maybe he was setting up something in the bedroom. I approached the door I knew so well. It was ajar. I pushed it open and time stopped. My feet wouldn’t move. My lungs stopped working. There, on the bed we shared. The one I had slept in just last week. Dave and someone else. A woman. Naked. On top of him. Her moans filled the air like poison. My heart cracked open, soundlessly. He didn’t see me at first. He was too busy. She was too loud. Then I spoke. “Dave?” The world stopped spinning. He froze. She gasped and jumped off, scrambling to pull the sheets over herself. He sat up, eyes wide. Shock. Guilt. Or maybe just regret at being caught. “Anne.....what are you doing here?” I stared at him, dumbfounded. “What… am I doing here?” I repeated, my voice barely a whisper. “You told me to come over at six.” He blinked. Swallowed hard. I looked around the room. No candles. No balloons. No ring box. No sign of love. No trace of us. Just them. Just betrayal. “I thought…” I took a shaky step backward. “I thought today was… you were going to…” Tears blurred my vision. I refused to let them fall. Not yet. “Ten years,” I breathed. “Ten years, Dave.” He opened his mouth. Nothing came out. The girl tried to sneak past me with her wig in her hand, head down. I didn’t even look at her. I looked at him. At the man I gave everything to. “You’re disgusting,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I lost myself in you. I gave you everything. And this is how you repay me?” He took a step toward me. “Anne, please, just let me explain.....” “Don’t,” I snapped, my voice rising. “Don’t come near me. Don’t say my name. Don’t even breathe near me.” I turned and walked away. My heels echoed through the house...his house, my rent like gunshots. And when I stepped outside, when the air hit my face and the sky looked a little less blue, my knees buckled. I sat on the cold concrete, my dress hiked up, my mascara running. And I cried. Like the ten years meant nothing. Because to him, maybe… they never did.