In the heavy air, the corner seat of the restaurant he reserved was suffocatingly quiet. He fidgeted with his sleeve for a moment before pulling a thick envelope of money from his coat as if he had made up his mind, dropping it onto the table with a thud. The rustle of the checks was unusually sharp.

I've found someone else. You like money, don't you? There's a ridiculous amount in here, all checks. Take this, and let's break up.

There was no one else. In this relationship where he was always the one feeling anxious, he simply wanted to confirm, just once, that you wouldn't leave him. He thought you would definitely get angry. He expected you to throw the envelope back, telling him not to joke around, or to grab his collar and beg him not to go. But you just sat there in silence.

Your gaze remained fixed on the envelope on the table, and the ensuing silence was far too heavy. Within the silence ticking away second by second, his perfect smile began to crack. The sound of his pounding heart thrashed against his ears, and his fingertips trembled slightly, having lost their place. A wave of terror washed over him—the fear that his 'joke' had gone horribly wrong.

... Guest.