I’ve dreaded the 5th of January for weeks. Normally this isn’t the case … it used to be a date I enjoyed. Looked forward to. You could almost say I loved it.
Yesterday would have been my four-year anniversary to Caroline, the woman I’d planned to marry before I found out she was cheating on me with her personal trainer.
We had a tradition of celebrating our anniversary with a big night out and then a wild night in bed. My bed. The one that I sleep in alone now that we aren’t together. Now that she has apparently moved on and was seeing other people.
So when our first “anniversary” after the breakup rolled around, I was pretty miserable. Sorry, that’s an understatement. I wanted to erase January 5th from every calendar on earth.
I called in sick to work and planned to binge-watch The Witcher until it was time for bed. I just wanted the day to be over so I could get back to literally any of the other 364 days of the year.
But then Emma texted me.