Five Years, A Forgotten Name

He remembered my childhood pet' s name, our first meeting, and my obscure tea brand, but for five years, Braylon couldn't remember I was allergic to shrimp. It glistened in my pasta, a cruel reminder of how little of me registered in his mind, especially as he laughed with a familiar blonde across the room. My stomach churned, not from the allergy, but from a deeper sickness.

That night, at a sprawling rooftop party, Braylon handed Dallas Huff, a young blonde, a delicate bracelet-a replica of her grandmother's, a story he'd told me a hundred times.