Trading Your Love for Half a Lifetime of Clear Skies

My girlfriend, Grace Gilbert, was an aerospace engineer.

When my buddies found out, they all crowded around me.

So does that mean she'll do what everyone online talks about? Buy you a star or two as a gift?

I laughed and shook my head.

She's a very serious person. She keeps work and life completely separate.

"An ex of hers once made a big fuss about wanting to tour the Aerospace Institute. She blocked him and broke up with him on the spot."

Five whole years, and I never once brought up anything about her work.

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

Every month, after she got paid, she'd transfer me five hundred dollars.

Five hundred. Not more, not less, punctual as a time clock.

I got used to it.

I thought that was just who she was. Calm, restrained, not the type to express anything.

Until one day, I came across a post on my feed.

Number one on the trending topics.

A guy had posted a photo grid, with a caption that read,

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

In one of the photos, a woman's hand showed at the edge.

The diamond watch on her wrist I recognized in an instant. It was the global limited edition I'd given Grace.

So it wasn't that she didn't know how to be romantic. It was just that I was never the one she was romantic with.

So in that whole sky of hers, there had never been a place for me.

I chased Grace Gilbert for a full year before she finally nodded and agreed to be with me.

She was a neat freak, and she was serious about everything.

Home or the research institute, everything was in perfect order, meticulous down to the last detail.

We never celebrated Valentine's Day, never any of the other couples' occasions.

On my birthday she never bought flowers, never gave a gift. She'd just find time to have a meal with me.

Once my buddies learned what she did for a living, they teased me with a grin.

"Think she'll do the online thing and buy you a few stars? Something super romantic like that?"

Every time I heard something like that, I'd smile and shake my head.

"She's not the type to play at romance."

"But every month when she gets paid, she transfers me five hundred dollars."

My buddies' faces went a little strange at that, but they all managed a laugh.

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

The truth was, she and I had gotten into it over this once.

I'd said I wanted to celebrate Valentine's Day too, that I wanted her to buy me a star up in the sky.

I still remember the look on her face then, cold and flat.

"Buying a star and aerospace are not the same thing. Spend less time on that internet stuff."

"An ex of mine said things like that once, and even wanted to tour the Aerospace Institute. I blocked him and broke up with him, just like that."

"If you can't accept that"

I'd hurried to change the subject back then, and never brought up anything about stars again.

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

A guy celebrating his birthday had posted a photo grid.

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

The diamond watch on her wrist, I knew it too well. It was the global limited edition I'd given Grace.

Like something had taken hold of me, I scrolled through every post that boy had ever made.

The earliest ones started half a year ago.

The "she" in his posts was all softness and charm.

She'd send him vivid roses, walk with him along the shore, ride the Ferris wheel with him.

Scrolling through it all, at some point I realized my face was wet with tears.

So in Grace's whole sky, I had never once been there.

Shaking, I called Grace.

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

Her voice was flat, the same as always.

"What is it?"

I forced down the ache in my chest.

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

There was silence on her end for a moment, then Grace spoke.

"Graham Swanson, you know my rule."

"And you should know by now, that kind of thing is academically just a gimmick to fleece the gullible. To the International Astronomical Union it doesn't count for anything."

I gave a bitter little laugh.

"Fine. I get it. Just pretend I never said it."

A few seconds passed, then she said,

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

And then she hung up.

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

There was a sound at the door, and Grace let herself in.

The lights came on. She saw me.

"Why are you sitting in the dark?"

I spoke calmly.

"I was looking at the stars outside."

Grace frowned.

"Where are there any stars in the city these days? Are you throwing a tantrum on purpose?"

"Didn't I already say I'd come home early tomorrow for dinner?"

"What else do you have to be unhappy about?"

I looked straight at her.

At this woman I'd loved for five years.

"Let's break up."

Grace froze.

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

"It's not that I can't spare a few hundred bucks. I just think it's a scam. There's no point."

The corner of my mouth twitched up.

"Right. Birthdays, no point. Anniversaries, no point. Valentine's, no point. Every little occasion, no point... none of it worth the trouble."

Her brows drew tighter and tighter.

"You're not in a stable state of mind right now. We'll talk once you've calmed down."

I shook my head.

"No. Let's break up."

Right then her phone rang, shrill and sudden.

It was some cartoonish little tune, not the kind of ringtone I'd ever expect her to use.

She snatched it up.

"Hello?"

Whatever she heard changed her expression a little.

"Got it."

She picked up her coat and shot me a look.

"Something's come up. I have to go out."

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

And with that she walked out without looking back.

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

Cold wind hit my face, and the cold went all the way through me.

After a while a violent gust kicked up outside, and in an instant the rain came pouring down.

The drops struck my face, freezing to the bone.

I shut the window and lay down on the bed.

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

The first time I met Grace was in a park.

A girl was being harassed, and Grace stepped up and stopped the man.

That upright, decent side of her was what I fell for at first sight.

But even someone that upright could lie.

I drifted off in a daze.

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

I took out my phone and opened that young man's page.

Sure enough, he'd posted again.

"I told her I'm scared of thunder, and my girl came right over to keep me company. Being loved feels so good."

Morning came, and Grace still hadn't come home.

I went back into that young man's page again.

At six o'clock he'd posted, with a photo of breakfast sandwiches and a doughnut on the table.

"I want to eat so, so many meals with you."

My stomach suddenly heaved, and I bolted to the bathroom and threw up.

Even when there was nothing left to bring up, my stomach kept cramping.

My forehead was still burning, so I had no choice but to take a cab to the hospital.

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

"You'd better go see the oncology department."

My face changed.

In oncology, the doctor looked at the scans, his whole expression grave.

"There's a tumor in your stomach. It has to come out as soon as possible."

Holding the test results, I walked out of the exam room, and my legs felt a little weak.

When I got to my own front door, I noticed a pair of men's sneakers on the shoe rack that hadn't been there before.

The door opened from the inside.

A good-looking young man poked his head out and gave me a smile.

"Hey there, I'm Daryl Henson."

He had a buzz cut, and he looked at me easy and unbothered.

His eyes rested on me for a second, then moved to Grace.

Grace started to explain.

"Daryl's the son of a friend of my dad's. He only came back to the country half a year ago."

Without thinking, I pinched the test results in my pocket. My fingertips felt cold.

Grace watched me for a few seconds, then chose her words carefully.

"So, um, tonight I'm going to see a play with Daryl, so I won't have dinner with you."

"I'll bring you back a cake."

There was a testing note in her voice, like she was watching for my reaction.

But I only looked at him, calm.

"No need. You forget, I don't like sweets."

She went slightly still, as if she hadn't expected me to be this calm.

Daryl chimed in from the side.

"Sorry to steal your girlfriend away, man."

"Tickets for this play are impossible to get. Took forever to snag them. I've had my heart set on it for months."

"She's just helping me make my wish come true, so don't read too much into it, okay~"

"Oh, right, man, let's add each other. What do you say?"

Grace had never cared for theater. She wouldn't even sit through a movie with me.

But her rules stopped being rules the moment Daryl Henson was involved.

The thought pulled a bitter little smile out of me.

"Sure. Have fun, you two."

Once they left, I started packing.

There was almost nothing to show for the years Grace and I had been together.

Early on, I'd badgered her into making a pair of handmade rings with me, and that was it. Nothing else proved we'd ever taken this seriously.

Even on my phone there were only a handful of photos of the two of us, because she said Daryl didn't like having his picture taken.

When I finished, I headed to the office.

Years ago I'd moved to this city for Grace.

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

People at work had always liked me, and my boss signed off without a fuss. He said 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 Grace got home, I was nearly asleep.

She looked at me with something complicated in her face.

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

I gave a soft laugh.

"It doesn't matter anymore."

Three hours earlier, I'd seen Daryl's post.

After the play, they'd driven up to Southcrest Summit to watch a meteor shower, and there'd been fireworks too.

I heard myself ask, "Grace. The meteor shower, the fireworks. Were they nice?"

Her voice went cold.

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

"Daryl and I finished the play, and someone nearby happened to mention there was a meteor shower and fireworks tonight. We decided to go on the spot."

She turned and went into the study.

The study light stayed on. Her phone kept pinging, over and over.

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

I went straight down the stairs, tumbling several steps.

My stomach seized with pain, and the scrapes on my knees burned.

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

I took my phone and called Grace. The line was busy.

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

I'd fallen into the corner by the wall, a spot tucked out of sight where no one would find me.

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

When I woke the next morning, Grace was already gone.

I dragged myself to the hospital alone.

The next time I came to, a doctor was standing at my bedside, his expression grave and worried.

"Sir, your tumor ruptured. We performed emergency surgery. A little later and your life would have been in danger."

The fear hit me late, and something twisted hard in my chest, and the tears came before I could stop them.

Right then, my phone buzzed.

A message from Grace.

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

I thought about it, then replied with one word. "Okay."

I was leaving anyway. Better to say everything clearly and be done with it.

That evening I went to the Western restaurant Daryl had booked.

When I pushed open the door to the private room, Grace and Daryl were leaning against each other, playing a game.

She never let herself look that relaxed in front of me, but with him she was a different person.

I didn't say much. I sat down.

The two of them did look well matched together.

Grace saw me and spoke, her tone a little stiff.

"Daryl says I upset you last night, not bringing you cake."

"Consider this dinner making it up to you."

Daryl propped his chin on his hand and blinked at me.

"Wow, big brother, I just noticed how deep your smile lines are. Even a man has to keep up appearances, you know."

I let out a small laugh.

"Then I should thank you for the reminder."

I ate that meal in silence.

Daryl talked nonstop about the amusing little things in his life, and Grace listened, laughing now and then.

The way she looked at him was a tenderness I'd never once seen.

Then Daryl suddenly looked up from his phone.

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

Grace jumped in at once.

"Graham, Daryl had an appendectomy a while back, he shouldn't be walking around much. You go get it."

"I need to answer a few work emails anyway."

I looked at her for a few seconds, then stood 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 out of tumor surgery simply couldn't take that kind of strain.

Sweat poured off me, my face went white, and there wasn't a trace of color left in my lips.

By the time I'd picked up the drinks and started back, my legs were giving out and my whole body was shaking.

I set the bubble tea on the table and sat down, catching my breath.

Smiling, Daryl took one of the cups from me and drank a few mouthfuls.

Then his face flushed red, his breathing turned ragged, and he pitched forward all at once.

Grace caught him with quick hands, then glanced down at the label on the bubble tea in his grip.

Her head snapped up, her eyes full of fury.

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

I opened my mouth to say he'd picked that cup himself.

Before I could get a word out, Grace had already bent down, pulled Daryl up against her, and rushed out of the restaurant without a backward glance.

I looked at the plate and the bubble tea in front of me, and something like grief came over me.

When a person doesn't love you, even your breathing is wrong.

The next second, my stomach seized with a violent pain.

Then my whole body slid off the chair and hit the floor hard.

Before I blacked out, I saw a restaurant staffer rush over to me.

Sir, are you all right?

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

The air was thick with the smell of disinfectant.

The doctor flipped through my chart, his tone stern.

You just came through major surgery. Your body is at its weakest right now. How could you let yourself get this worn out?

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 my, did you see that gorgeous woman just now? With that guy who had the allergic reaction.

First thing out of her mouth was the best VIP room. Money's no object.

That guy's really got it good.

I lowered my eyes.

All these years Grace and I were together, I covered the bulk of things financially.

Her salary at the institute was actually very high, but she'd hardly spent a cent on me.

Every time she said, We should save the money for later, I believed her.

Thinking about it now, it wasn't that she was frugal. It was just that I wasn't worth it.

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

Daryl's feed never stopped.

Grace took him shopping at the mall and bought him a pile of gifts.

The two of them saw the latest movie release, and he posted the ticket stub with the caption, Second viewing with my girl, still so moved.

I read through them one by one and set the phone down beside my pillow.

It felt like it didn't hurt so much anymore.

The day I was discharged, I took a cab home to pack my things.

The moment I walked in, I saw Grace sitting on the couch, her face grave.

Daryl sat beside her, his eyes red.

When she saw me, her expression turned ugly.

Daryl's account on the platform is getting swarmed with hate. He says you're in his visitor list.

I frowned.

What do you mean?

There was a trace of irritation in her voice.

Someone saw his account and put up a post digging out all our info, laid out the whole timeline, said he was the guy on the side.

And his account got flooded.

She paused a few seconds, her gaze landing on me.

You shouldn't have done this.

There's nothing between me and Daryl.

I looked at her, my voice as calm as dead water.

You think I did it?

So what do you want now?

Grace thought for a moment.

Daryl has a lot of followers now, and quite a few sponsorship deals lined up.

I know there's nothing between me and Daryl, butGraham, why don't you register an account and post a statement, clear it up, say Daryl isn't the third party.

Something in my head snapped clean through.

I was so angry I laughed.

He's not the third party. So what you're saying is you want me to admit I'm the third party?

Cold sweat started breaking over me in waves, but I could no longer tell if it was the pain or the cold.

Daryl shot to his feet.

Forget it, forget it, I'll post an explanation myself. Even if they tear me apart, I'll take it.

Grace's face changed.

Don't talk nonsense.

Daryl bolted out, face white, and Grace went straight after him.

The moment the door slammed, the apartment fell quiet.

Ten minutes later, an account under my name posted:

I really was the third party. Daryl Henson and Grace Gilbert are the ones in a normal relationship.

My phone blew up instantly.

Old coworkers and friends called one after another asking what was going on.

Countless unknown numbers rang through, and message after message came pouring in.

People who steal someone's partner are the ones I despise most in this life! Man or woman! I hope you die a miserable death!

Have you no shame? A happy little couple, and you shove yourself in the middle. For what?

And faking a timeline post? Lucky we've got eyes and know Daryl would never lie.

I read through them one by one, and all at once I felt so tired.

I didn't reply to anyone. I only called my best friend and told him a few things in short.

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

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

I chose the couch. I chose the curtains. I bought the wall clock.

The cups on the table were a matching pair, but hers had shattered ages ago, and she'd never bought a new one.

I closed the door, didn't look back, and went straight to the airport.

A week later.

Grace came back with Daryl from a trip to the beach.

She pushed the door open and called out from habit.

Graham!

The apartment was empty.

There was a note on the coffee table.

She picked it up. On it was a single line.

These five years, I might as well have thrown them to the dogs.