On Thanksgiving, I cooked a feast. Turkey, pumpkin pie, cranberry sauce... the whole nine yards. I was waiting for Julian to come home.

But when he walked in, he didn't even glance at the table. He just started packing a travel bag.

"I can't spend Thanksgiving with you this year," he said, his voice as cold as ice.

I didn't say a word. I just silently cut a small piece of pumpkin pie and put it in my mouth.

Later that night, right on schedule, Julian's childhood friend, Sophia, posted on Instagram.

It was a photo of her, smiling, clinging to Julian's back. Behind them, the dazzling Manhattan skyline and a full moon.

The caption read: "Some traditions are worth keeping. Thankful for the one who's always by my side."

This time, I didn't have a hysterical meltdown. I just calmly liked the post.

Julian’s call came instantly. His voice had a rare edge of panic. "Don't overthink this. I promise, I'll spend next Thanksgiving with you..."

I paused for a second, then let out a small, quiet laugh.

Next year?

Oh, Julian.

There wasn't going to be a next year.

...

It was a week after the holiday when Julian finally came home.

I used to wait for him in the apartment building's garden, but not this time.

He texted me: "Where are you?"

I was eating a salad for lunch. I casually texted back: "Home, eating."

A few minutes later, he walked in, dragging his suitcase behind him.

"I'm hungry," he ordered while taking off his shoes. "Go make me some pasta. With a sunny-side-up egg on top."

Normally, I would have gone straight to the kitchen without a second thought. But this time, I just looked at him.

"I've already eaten. You can order something on DoorDash."

He shot me a dirty look but reined in his anger. "I know you're still pissed about Thanksgiving, but can you stop with the drama? I'm starving."

I turned and smiled at him. "I'm not mad."

He didn't believe me. "Sophia was all alone in New York for the holiday. I was just keeping her company. It was a family obligation."

"Yeah, I know," I said flatly.

He stared into my eyes, trying to see through me.

Then he looked down, fighting his annoyance. "What's the point of this? I'm exhausted. I don't want to fight with you. Can't you just be reasonable for once?"

I looked back at him and explained patiently, "I'm not fighting with you. Are you done? I'm going to do the dishes."

Julian watched me in silence for a moment, then pulled a cheap-looking necklace box from his pocket and handed it to me.

"A gift," he said, looking down on me.

There was no nice wrapping, a stark contrast to the Tiffany blue box Sophia had flaunted on her Instagram.

I didn't show any excitement. I just said politely, "Thanks."

And that was it. I had no other reaction.

A flicker of displeasure crossed his face. "That's it?" he asked, annoyed.

"Yep, that's it," I replied calmly.

His face turned livid. He held out his hand. "Where's mine?"

It was only then that I remembered. "Sorry, I forgot," I said. "I'll Venmo you 200 bucks. You can buy yourself something."

I picked up my phone and sent the money right there in front of him.

Julian's eyes widened. He couldn't believe I'd forgotten.

After all, I was the one who always cared about celebrating things. Exchanging gifts on every occasion was our special tradition.

For years, I was the one who upheld it.

I would always come up with creative gifts for him, even when he sometimes forgot mine.

The air grew thick with awkwardness. I went to the closet, changed my clothes, and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Julian called out urgently.

"Out with my girls," I said coolly.

Then I closed the door behind me, ignoring the muffled, frustrated sound of him calling my name.

After I got with Julian, he told me, "I don't like you hanging out with that trashy crowd." So I canceled almost all my plans with my friends.

Eventually, they all thought I was boring, that my "man had me on a tight leash," and they just stopped inviting me out.

Now, finally, I could have a real reunion with my besties.