He Had a Rule for Our Anniversaries. He Broke It for Her.

The day I confirmed my relationship with Zachary, he established a "Holiday Exemption Policy." Valentine's Day, anniversaries. They were just marketing gimmicks, a waste of time. Early in our relationship, I had acute gastroenteritis. He carried me on his back through a rainstorm for three blocks to the ER. So I believed he wasn't indifferent—just pragmatic. For 4 years, I never asked for a single anniversary flower or mentioned a candlelit dinner. On our anniversary last year, he was at a business dinner until midnight. I bought the smallest cake and waited for him to come home. He only sent one message. Zachary: Don't wait. Waste of time. At a company team-building event, I came back from the restroom and saw an intern who'd been with us for three months crouched beside him, unwrapping a gift. Inside the box were 12 pages of handwritten love letters and a custom silver coin stamped with their Polaroid photo. The intern held up the coin and laughed. "So you do love grand gestures. You lied to me." Zachary tousled her hair, his voice softer than I'd ever heard. "Silly girl. Yours is different." I thought of the overseas assignment application that had been sitting in my inbox for two weeks. The one I'd been agonizing over. I deleted the reply I'd drafted—the one that was supposed to turn it down. He'd said he didn't want a long-distance relationship. I was going to say no. Now it seemed I didn't have to hesitate anymore. "Chloe, how long have you been standing there?" Freya crouched by the coffee table, still holding the custom silver coin stamped with the Polaroid. She looked up at me, a flicker of panic crossing her face—but her eyes showed no sign of backing down. The music in the private room was still playing, but no one was talking anymore. Zachary had been looking at Freya with a fond smile. When he heard the commotion, the curve of his lips slowly faded. He lifted his head, his gaze cutting through the flickering laser lights to land on me. His first reaction wasn't guilt. It was a frown. "Why are you here?" His voice carried a hint of irritation at being interrupted. "Didn't I tell you to rest early because of your stomach?" I walked over calmly and placed the blue folder, still warm from my hands, on the table. "The risk control data for tomorrow's board meeting. You left it in the study." Zachary glanced at the folder but didn't reach for it. He pulled out his cigarette case, took one out, and put it between his lips without lighting it. "You could have just sent a courier. You didn't have to come all the way here yourself." He looked at my pale face, his tone impossible to read—concern or complaint? Freya stood up, smoothed her skirt, and spoke with a bright, superior air. "Don't blame Mr. Shaw, Chloe. He's under so much pressure at work. He always says life feels dead, like a clock wound too tight. I just wanted to help him relax. After all, life isn't just about work and money, right?" She waved the stack of handwritten love letters, smiling innocently. "He said you don't like this kind of thing. You think it's a waste of time. He was just trying to cheer me up, so you wouldn't be bothered." I looked at Freya's radiant face and said nothing. She knew exactly how to cut deep. She didn't see herself as doing anything wrong. She saw herself as saving Zachary from me, from a boring, rigid woman who only cared about numbers. I turned to Zachary. "Did you tell her I don't like these grand gestures?" He took the cigarette from his lips, his thumb absently rubbing the filter. "Chloe, why are you picking a fight with a recent graduate?" He sidestepped the question, slipping into a businesslike tone. "She has her performance review next month. She's stressed. Young girls need a little encouragement. It's part of the job. You're usually so understanding. Why are you getting worked up today?" I turned the word over in my mind. A dull ache tightened in my stomach. 4 years ago, I was new, clueless. When I refused to cook the books for the finance director, he framed me for leaking data. Everyone avoided me. It was pouring outside, and I hid in the stairwell, crying, thinking my career was over. Then Zachary opened that door. Soaked to the bone, he handed me a complete set of evidence. He had gone to three departments to retrieve the original documents and surveillance footage, making an enemy of the finance director in the process. He set the file in front of me, his voice cold. "Crying won't help. Neither will empty gestures. If you want to clear your name, take the evidence and fight back with facts." From that day on, I mistook his indifference for another kind of romance. I thought he didn't care about appearances because he put all his energy into what truly mattered. For 4 years, I handled his favors, filled his gaps, and stayed up with him through countless sleepless nights. I never asked for flowers or dinners. I thought we were partners. Now I knew the truth. He knew how to be romantic. He just didn't want to be romantic with me. "You're right. I'm too serious." I looked away. "The documents are here. You can continue." I turned and walked out. Behind me, Freya's voice carried softly. "Mr. Shaw, is Chloe upset? Maybe you should check on her?" Zachary laughed. "No need. She'll sort herself out. Come on, we haven't finished singing." I pushed open the door. The cold air from the hallway hit me. In my pocket, the overseas assignment application signed only by me, not yet submitted—pressed against my fingertips. This time, I wasn't going to sort myself out.