Grant Me a Starlight Without Love

My boyfriend, Stephen Gilbert, was an aerospace engineer.

When my friends found out, they all crowded around me and asked,

So does he do that thing you see online, buying you a few stars and naming them after you?

I smiled and shook my head.

He's a very meticulous man. He keeps his work and his life completely separate.

"He had an ex once who kept begging to tour the Aerospace Research Institute. He just blocked her and broke it off."

For five whole years, I never once brought up his work.

Holidays, birthdays, it didn't matter. Stephen never did a single romantic thing.

Every month, when his salary came in, he transferred me five hundred dollars.

Five hundred, not a dollar more or less, punctual as clockwork.

I got used to it.

I thought that was just who he was. Calm, restrained, no good at showing anything.

Until one day, a post came across my feed.

Number one trending.

A girl had posted a nine-photo grid, and the caption read,

"For my birthday, you bought me twenty named stars."

In one of the photos, a man's hand was showing.

I recognized the watch on his wrist in a single glance. It was the limited global edition I'd given Stephen.

So it turned out he wasn't incapable of romance. It was just that the romance wasn't for me.

So it turned out I'd never had a place in that sky of his.

I chased Stephen Gilbert for a full year before he finally agreed to be with me.

He was a neat freak, exacting in everything.

At home or at the institute, everything was in perfect order, not a detail out of place.

We never celebrated Valentine's Day, or any of the couple's holidays.

On my birthday he never bought flowers, never gave gifts. He'd just find the time to have a meal with me.

Once my friends learned what he did for a living, they teased me,

"Does he do that thing online, buy you a few stars? Super romantic, that kind of thing?"

Every time I heard that, I smiled and shook my head.

"He's not the type who plays at romance."

"But every month when his salary comes in, he transfers me five hundred dollars."

My friends' expressions turned a little odd at that, but they all managed a smile.

"Well, he's practical, at least."

The truth is, we'd fought about it once.

I said I wanted to celebrate the couple's holidays, that I wanted him to buy me a star up in the sky.

I still remember his face then, cold and flat.

"Buying stars and aerospace are not the same thing. Spend less time on that stuff online."

"An ex of mine said things like that once, wanted to tour the institute too. I blocked her and ended it right there."

"If you can't accept that"

I changed the subject fast that day, and I never mentioned stars, or anything like them, again.

But today, one post sat at number one on the trending list.

A girl, celebrating her birthday, had posted a nine-photo grid.

"For my birthday, you bought me twenty stars named after me."

I knew that watch on his wrist too well. It was the limited global edition I'd given Stephen.

Something drove me to it, and I scrolled through every post that girl had.

The earliest ones started half a year ago.

The "him" in her posts was romantic and playful.

He'd send her bright red roses, walk with her along the shore, ride the Ferris wheel with her.

Scrolling through my phone, I realized at some point that my face was already wet with tears.

So it turned out I had never once been in that sky of Stephen's.

Shaking, I dialed Stephen's number.

It rang a long time before he picked up. In the background I could faintly hear women laughing and talking.

His voice was flat, the same as always.

"What is it?"

I swallowed down the ache in my chest.

"Tomorrow's my birthday. Could you buy me a star?"

There was silence on the other end for a moment, then Stephen spoke.

"Alberta Swanson, you know my rule."

"And you should know this by now. Academically that stuff is just a scam for suckers. It means nothing to the International Astronomical Union."

I let out a small, self-mocking laugh.

"Fine. I get it. Forget I said anything."

A few seconds passed, and he spoke.

"Tomorrow, I'll come home early and have dinner with you."

Then he hung up.

That night, I sat on the couch, staring at nothing.

There was a sound at the door, and Stephen opened it.

The lights came on, and he saw me.

"Why are you sitting in the dark?"

I answered calmly.

"I was looking at the stars outside."

Stephen frowned.

"There aren't any stars in the city now. Are you throwing a tantrum on purpose?"

"Didn't I already say it? I'll come home early tomorrow for dinner."

"What else is there for you to be unhappy about?"

I looked straight at him.

At this man I had loved for five years.

"Let's break up."

Stephen stared at me.

"All because I wouldn't buy you a star?"

"It's not that I can't spare a few hundred dollars. I just think it's a scam. A waste."

The corner of my mouth twitched.

"Right. Birthdays, a waste. Anniversaries, a waste. Valentine's, a waste. None of it's worth it. Nothing ever is."

His frown dug deeper.

"You're not thinking straight right now. We'll talk when you've calmed down."

I shook my head.

"No. Let's break up."

Just then his phone rang, shrill and insistent.

It was some cartoonish little tune, not the kind of ringtone I'd ever expect from him.

He answered fast.

"Hello?"

Whatever he heard shifted something in his face.

"Got it."

He grabbed his coat and glanced at me.

"Something came up. I have to go out."

"What you said just now, I'll pretend I didn't hear it."

And then he walked out without looking back.

I pushed the window open. The night sky outside was pitch black, not a single star in it.

The cold wind hit my face, and the cold reached all the way inside me.

A while later the wind picked up hard, and in an instant the rain came down in sheets.

The drops struck my face, icy to the bone.

I shut the window and lay down on the bed.

My head was full of all the little pieces of these past years.

The first time I met Stephen was at a park.

A girl was being harassed, and he stepped in and stopped the man.

I fell in love at first sight with someone that upright.

And yet even someone that upright could lie.

I drifted off in a daze.

I woke in the middle of the night with my forehead burning, and forced myself up to put a fever patch on it.

I picked up my phone and opened that girl's feed.

Sure enough, she'd posted again.

"I told him I was scared of the thunder, and my sweetheart came straight over to keep me company. It feels so good to be spoiled."

Stephen still hadn't come back by morning.

I went back into that girl's feed.

At six she'd posted again, a photo of a breakfast sandwich and a hash brown on the table.

"I want to sit down for a lot of meals with you. So many of them."

My stomach heaved without warning, and I ran to the bathroom and threw up.

Even after there was nothing left, my stomach kept clenching.

My forehead was still scorching, so I gave up and took a cab to the hospital.

While the doctor was examining me, he said, out of nowhere,

"You should go see the OB-GYN."

My face changed.

In the OB-GYN, the doctor looked at me with a wide smile.

"You're pregnant. You'll want to watch your diet and get plenty of rest for a while."

I took the pregnancy report and got into the cab home in a daze.

When I reached the door, I noticed a pair of women's heels that hadn't been on the shoe rack before.

The door opened from the inside.

A pretty girl leaned out and gave me a smile.

"Hi there. I'm Delia Henson."

The girl wore her hair in a high ponytail, looking me over openly and easily.

Her gaze rested on me for a second, then turned to Stephen.

Stephen offered an explanation.

"Delia is the daughter of a friend of my dad's. She only came back to the country in the last six months."

Without thinking, I pinched the pregnancy report in my pocket. My fingertips felt a little cold.

Stephen studied me for a few seconds, then chose his words carefully.

"So, listen, I'm taking Delia to a play tonight. I won't be around for dinner with you."

"I'll bring you back a cake."

There was a testing note in his voice, like he was watching for my reaction.

But I only looked at him calmly.

"Don't bother. You've forgotten again. I don't like sweets."

He froze slightly, as if he hadn't expected me to be so calm.

Delia cut in from beside him.

"I'm sorry for stealing your boyfriend, sis."

"The tickets to this play are impossible to get. I barely managed to snag them, I've had my heart set on it for months."

"He just wants to help me make my wish come true, so please don't read too much into it, okay~"

"Oh, and, sis, why don't we add each other on our messenger apps?"

Stephen never cared for plays. He wouldn't even sit through a movie with me at the theater.

But his rules stopped being rules the moment Delia was involved.

The thought pulled a bitter little laugh out of me.

"Sure. Have fun, you two."

Once they left, I started packing.

There was almost nothing to pack from five years with Stephen. Pitifully little.

Apart from the handmade ring I'd forced him to make with me back when we first got together, there was nothing to prove we'd ever been serious.

Even on my phone there were only a handful of photos of us, because he'd always said he didn't like being photographed.

When I finished, I headed to the office.

I'd come to this city for Stephen in the first place.

Now that I'd decided to leave, I handed in my resignation.

People at the company had always liked me, and my boss signed off without any fuss, telling me I could go in three days.

After work, I bought myself a small old-fashioned cake.

I sat alone at the table and ate it, quietly, all of it.

By the time Stephen came home, I was almost asleep.

He looked at me with something complicated in his face.

"Sorry. By the time the play ended, all the bakeries were closed."

I gave a soft laugh.

"It doesn't matter anymore."

Three hours earlier, I'd seen Delia's post on her feed.

After the play, the two of them had gone up to Ridgecrest Summit to watch a meteor shower, and there'd been fireworks too.

The words came out before I could stop them.

"Stephen, were the meteor shower and the fireworks nice?"

His voice went cold.

"Do you have to be so snide about it?"

"Delia and I finished the play, someone nearby happened to mention there'd be a meteor shower and fireworks tonight, so we decided on the spot to go."

He turned and went into the study.

The study light stayed on. His phone kept buzzing with messages.

In the middle of the night, I went downstairs for water and my foot slipped.

I went down the whole staircase, tumbling over several steps.

Pain tore through my belly, and the scrapes on my knees burned.

I tried to call out, but my throat was raw and no sound came.

I grabbed my phone and called Stephen. Busy.

I tried a voice call. He hung up on it.

I'd fallen into the corner by the wall, a spot tucked away where no one would notice easily.

I was about to call 911 when everything went black, and I passed out completely.

When I woke the next day, Stephen was already gone.

I dragged myself to the hospital alone.

The doctor told me, regret in her voice,

"Ma'am, you've had a miscarriage."

I pressed a hand to my empty belly, and something in my chest twisted hard as the tears spilled over.

Right then, my phone buzzed.

A message from Stephen.

"Delia wants to have dinner with you tonight, to make up for last night."

I thought about it, then typed back a single word. "Okay."

I was leaving anyway. Better to get everything out in the open sooner.

That evening I went to the steakhouse Delia had booked.

When I pushed open the door to the private room, Stephen and Delia were leaning against each other, playing a game on their phones.

He never let himself look that relaxed around me. With her, he was like a different man.

I didn't say much. I sat down.

The two of them, side by side, really did look like a match.

Stephen saw me and spoke, his tone a little stiff.

"Delia said you must be upset that I didn't bring you a cake last night."

"Think of this dinner as making it up to you."

Delia propped her chin in her hand and blinked at me.

"Sis, I just noticed your smile lines are so deep. You really have to keep up with the cosmetic treatments."

"Once a woman gets older, she really does age off a cliff."

I let out a soft laugh.

"Then I suppose I should thank you for the reminder."

I ate that dinner in silence.

Delia chattered on the whole time about the little happenings in her life, and Stephen listened, laughing now and then.

The way he looked at her was a tenderness I'd never once seen.

Then Delia suddenly cried out, phone in hand.

"Oh no, I ordered bubble tea but picked the wrong delivery option. I set it to store pickup. I'll go get it."

Stephen jumped in at once.

"Alberta, Delia had appendix surgery a while back, she shouldn't be walking around much. You go get it."

"Perfect timing anyway, I have a few work emails to reply to."

I looked at him for a few seconds, then stood, turned, and walked out of the restaurant.

I hadn't expected the bubble tea shop to be two miles away.

It took me a full forty minutes to get there.

A body fresh off a miscarriage couldn't take it for long.

I was drenched in sweat, my face pale, not a trace of color in my lips.

By the time I'd picked up the bubble tea and started back, my legs had gone weak and my whole body was shaking.

I set the drinks on the table and sat down, gasping for breath.

Smiling, Delia lifted one of the cups out of my hand and took a few sips.

Then her face flushed red, her breathing turned ragged, and she pitched forward hard.

Stephen caught her before she fell and glanced down at the label on the cup in her hand.

His head snapped up toward me, his eyes full of fury.

Delia's allergic to almonds! Why did you give her the one with almonds in it?!

I opened my mouth to say she'd taken that cup herself.

Before I could get a word out, Stephen had already bent down, scooped Delia up, and rushed out of the restaurant without a backward glance.

I looked at the plates and the bubble tea in front of me, and a sudden sadness settled over me.

When someone doesn't want you, even your breathing is a mistake.

The next second, a sharp pain tore through my stomach.

Then I slid off the chair and hit the floor hard.

Before I blacked out, I saw the restaurant staff rush over to me.

Ma'am, are you all right?

When I woke again, I was already lying in a hospital.

The air was thick with the smell of disinfectant.

The doctor flipped through my chart, his tone grave.

You just went through a miscarriage. Your body is at its weakest right now. How could you let yourself get this exhausted?

I bit my lip and said nothing.

The doctor sighed.

You have to rest properly. No matter what, your health comes first.

Just then, a few young nurses passed by the door.

Oh, did you see that handsome guy earlier? The one carrying the girl who had the allergic reaction.

First thing he did was ask for the best VIP room. Money's no object.

That girl is so lucky.

I lowered my eyes.

All these years I was with Stephen, I covered most of our expenses.

His salary at the Research Institute was actually high, but he'd barely spent a cent on me.

Every time he said the money should be saved for later, I believed him.

Now, thinking back, it wasn't that he was thrifty. It was just that I wasn't worth it.

For the next two days, I stayed in the hospital.

Delia's social media feed never stopped.

Stephen took her shopping at the mall and bought her all kinds of gifts.

The two of them went to see the latest movie again too. She posted the ticket stub with the caption, Second time watching it with my big brother, still so moved.

I read through them one by one, then set my phone by my pillow.

It was as though my heart didn't hurt so much anymore.

The day I was discharged, I took a car home to get my things.

The moment I walked in, I saw Stephen sitting on the sofa, his expression grim.

Delia sat beside him, eyes red, still dabbing at her tears.

When Stephen saw me, his face darkened.

Delia's social media account is getting slammed. She says you were one of the people who viewed her page.

I frowned.

What's that supposed to mean?

There was a trace of irritation in his voice.

Someone saw her feed and posted about it. They dug up all our information, laid out the timeline, and said she was the other woman.

So her account got mobbed.

He paused for a few seconds, his gaze landing on me.

You shouldn't have done that.

There's nothing between me and Delia.

I looked at him, my voice as calm as still, dead water.

You think I did it?

So what do you want now?

Stephen thought for a moment.

Delia has a lot of followers now, and quite a few brand deals.

There's nothing going on between us, butAlberta, why don't you register an account and post a statement, explain that Delia isn't the other woman.

Something inside my head snapped clean through.

I was so angry I almost laughed.

She's not the other woman. You mean you want me to admit that I'm the one who was?

Cold sweat broke over me in waves, but I could no longer tell whether it was the pain or the chill.

Delia suddenly stood up.

Forget it, forget it. I'll post an explanation on my account. Even if they curse me to death, I'll take it.

Stephen's face changed.

Don't talk nonsense.

Delia ran out crying, and Stephen went straight after her.

The moment the door slammed shut, the apartment fell silent.

Ten minutes later, an account under my name posted a message.

I really am the other woman. Delia and Stephen are the ones in a normal relationship.

My phone exploded in an instant.

Former coworkers and friends called one after another to ask what was going on.

Countless unknown numbers rang through, and message after message poured in.

People who steal someone else's man are the lowest of the low! I hope you rot!

Have you no shame? A sweet young couple, happy together, and you wedge yourself in the middle?

Posting a fake timeline too? Good thing we have eyes and know Delia would never lie.

I read through every one of them, and all at once I felt exhausted.

I didn't reply to anyone. I only called my closest friend and told her a few things, quickly.

After I hung up, I switched off my phone and dragged out the suitcase I'd packed long ago.

I looked around the apartment I'd lived in for five years.

I'd chosen the sofa, picked out the curtains, bought the wall clock.

The cups on the table were a matching pair, but his had shattered a long time ago, and he'd never bought a new one.

I closed the door, didn't look back, and headed straight for the airport.

A week later.

Stephen came back from a trip to the beach with Delia.

He pushed open the door and called out from habit.

Alberta!

The apartment was empty.

There was a note on the coffee table.

He picked it up. There was only one line on it.

These five years, I'll just call them wasted on a dog.