Everyone looked at each other, their own eyes turning red.

They raised their glasses and clinked them together with force.

"To your future! May it be bright and beautiful, and may you get everything you've ever wished for!"

After the party, Lyra received the flight confirmation from her company.

[Dear Ms. Lyra Shaw, your flight, AA7399 from New York to Berlin, will depart on January 24th, 2025, at 5:20 PM. We wish you a pleasant journey.]

That was the day after tomorrow.

January 24th. The day she would officially leave Lucien.

Unwilling to dwell on it, Lyra started packing.

In the middle of her packing, Lucien came home.

He didn't mention the incident at the board game cafe, and Lyra didn't bring it up.

He clearly saw her packing, but he had no reaction.

"You're busy. I'm going to bed."

He didn't care what Lyra was doing. Perhaps he was so certain she would never leave him that he felt secure.

Or perhaps, even if he knew she would leave, he simply didn't care.

As Lyra packed, she found two forgotten theater ticket vouchers at the bottom of a bag.

She remembered they had won them in a raffle outside a theater months ago. They were good for one free show.

They had planned to go together, but then Sylvie came back, and the tickets were forgotten.

Lyra held up the vouchers and called out to Lucien. "Let's use these tomorrow."

Lucien replied casually, "Fine."

Lyra put the tickets on the table in the most conspicuous spot.

After this play, there would be no more ties between them.

The next day, Lyra and Lucien went to the theater. The play was an adaptation of a classic novel about a man torn between two loves.

The most iconic scene was the male lead's monologue.

He said: *Every man has two women in his life. If he marries the red rose, she becomes a smear of mosquito blood on the wall, while the white one remains the moonlight before his bed. If he marries the white rose, she becomes a grain of rice stuck to his clothes, while the red one is a cinnabar mole over his heart.*

Lyra was mesmerized by this scene, her eyes welling up.

She couldn't help but see herself in it.

Sylvie was the white rose in Lucien's life, pure and beautiful.

And her…

Lyra instinctively looked at Lucien.

But in the dim theater, he was completely engrossed in his phone, typing a message.

On the screen, the name "Sylvie" stung Lyra's eyes: [What are you doing? I'm so bored. Can you come keep me company?]

[Hold on. I'll be there soon.]

Lucien quickly sent the reply. As if sensing her gaze, he looked up and saw Lyra's calm face.

He asked, confused, "What's wrong? Is the play bad?"

Lyra shook her head. "It's nothing."

She turned her gaze back to the stage.

*Maybe I'm not even the mosquito blood…* she thought.

A sharp pain pierced Lyra’s heart. She felt ridiculous and pathetic.

After the play, they followed the crowd out of the theater.

Lyra knew he was in a hurry to meet Sylvie, but she still couldn't stop herself from speaking.

"Let's go home and have dinner. I bought a lot of your favorite foods…"

But Lucien cut her off without hesitation. "I can't. I have something to do."

"It's just one meal. It won't take much of your time."

Lyra tried to hold on. She just wanted one last meal with him, a proper end to their relationship.

But Lucien wasn't willing.

His gaze was cool and detached, no different from any other ordinary day in the past five years.

He said, "Next time. I promise I'll make it up to you when I have time."

In that moment, Lyra finally found peace.

She said goodbye to him, just as she always had. "Okay, I understand."

She watched him turn, hail a cab, and disappear, eager to be gone.

Then, she whispered to the empty air, "There won't be a next time, Lucien."

Back home, the courier she had scheduled arrived on time. She shipped all the clothes she couldn't take to Germany back to her parents' house.

She gathered all their photos and couple's items and threw them in the trash.

Before she left, she took out a pad of sticky notes and left Lucien a farewell gift.

On the refrigerator: [The vegetables should be eaten within three days. I put the beef in the freezer, remember to take it out to thaw in advance.]

On the washing machine: [Your wool sweaters and suits can't go in the washer. They need to be dry-cleaned. And don't wash different colors together.]

On the balcony: [The plants on the windowsill need to be watered at least once a week, or they'll die.]

…

By the time she was done, the entire apartment was covered in yellow sticky notes.

Lyra stared at them.

For five years, these notes had chronicled the traces of her love for him.

And Lucien had treated her love just like these notes—read and then discarded.

This was the last time she would love him.

Only one sticky note was left. On it, Lyra wrote one final sentence: [Lucien, happy breakup.]

She stuck this note on his tablet.

It was all over.

Lyra picked up her suitcase and walked out of the 'home' she had lived in for five years.

With a 'click,' the door locked behind her, leaving only silence.