They Bet On How Fast I Would Cry On Our Anniversary Chapter 10

They Bet On How Fast I Would Cry On Our Anniversary Chapter 10

Six months after the divorce, the company wrapped up a major project successfully.

At the celebration dinner, someone suggested playing Truth or Dare.

My fingers tightened around my glass before I could stop myself.

Megan, the coworker beside me, noticed and immediately called it off.

“If someone’s not feeling it, let’s play something else.”

“Games are supposed to be fun. Nobody should feel pressured.”

No one accused me of ruining the mood. No one asked why.

They switched to a regular board game without making a big deal out of it.

In that moment, I finally understood.

Real respect was never something you had to earn with tears.

Later, Sophie sent me an apology letter.

She said she’d left the city.

She finally admitted that she hadn’t crossed the line by accident.

She’d just enjoyed being chosen by Ethan in front of me, over and over.

I never replied.

Derek and a few of the others who’d bet that night posted public apologies.

For half a month, they also sent long messages to my work account every day.

They wrote about how stupid they’d been.

How they’d convinced themselves it was just a harmless test between friends.

Adults aren’t blind.

When they see someone crying, they’re not confused about what’s happening-they’re calculating how much further they can push.

This morning, my calendar reminded me of our anniversary from years ago.

An encrypted email appeared in my

inbox.

No subject. One line in the body.

[No game this year. No one else. Just waiting for you.]

I looked at it once, then deleted it.

In the private lounge, Megan shuffled the cards and fanned them out on the table.

“Pick one. Red’s Truth. Black’s Dare. Ms. Ashford, you’re up.”

Staying approachable was part of the job. It also made it easier to hand them the North District bidding slog next month.

That’s just office politics.

I reached out and drew the Queen of Clubs.

“Dare.” I turned the card over.

Megan pulled up the question bank on her phone.

“Tell us the riskiest thing you’ve ever done. Skip the usual penalty.”

Gary chimed in. “Ms. Ashford once staked out a parking garage for three hours last month just to corner a client’s CEO. Didn’t even blink at a hundred-million-dollar deal.”

“So don’t tell me her riskiest move was sneaking off to that famous club downtown and hiring eight male hosts in the middle of the night.”

The city lights glowed outside the window.

No cameras. No one waiting for me to fall apart.

I smiled. “My riskiest move… walking away from someone I once thought I couldn’t live without.”

They had once measured love by how much pain I could endure.

They thought the harder I cried, the less likely I was to leave.

But I eventually learned the truth.

Real love doesn’t need pain to prove anything.

And the end of that dare wasn’t losing Ethan.

It was finally finding my way back to myself.