Ella always started her day by making the coffee. Every morning for five years, she prepared it in the same chipped cup that read Forever Us, a gift from their first anniversary.
Lately, though, Mark had been coming home late. He was a policeman, so at first, Ella hadn’t thought much of it — long hours came with the job. But then he started using his phone more often, keeping it close, taking it with him everywhere, even into the bathroom. That’s when she found the text messages — hidden under a contact named “Mike from Work.”
That morning, her hands trembled as she held the mug. The words Forever Us seemed laughable now. She didn’t confront him right away. Instead, when Mark entered the kitchen, she greeted him with a smile, kissed his cheek, and handed him the mug. He drank his coffee as if nothing had changed. But everything had.
Ella waited until Saturday — the day Mark usually went to the gym, often leaving his phone behind. This time was no different, and she seized the opportunity. What she found confirmed what she already knew: pictures, texts, plans to escape together. Her chest tightened, but she didn’t cry. The truth was undeniable now. She didn’t scream. She simply waited.
That evening, she prepared his favorite meal — steak, potatoes, and red wine.
“What’s the special occasion?” he asked, pleasantly surprised.
“Us,” she replied. “Forever us.”
After dinner, she stood at the kitchen sink, watching him play with Buddy, his golden retriever — Mark’s most beloved companion in the world.
“Mark?” she called softly. He looked up.
Then he heard the gunshot.
Buddy collapsed instantly. The silence that followed was more deafening than any scream.
“What the hell—Ella?!”
She didn’t flinch. Calmly, she set the smoking gun down on the counter.
“Now you know what it feels like to have someone you love ripped away.”
Mark dropped to his knees, cradling Buddy’s lifeless body, sobbing uncontrollably.
Ella walked past him and placed the Forever Us mug beside the gun. The handle struck the granite counter, snapping off, splitting the phrase in two.
“I won’t go to prison,” she said softly.
“It was your gun. Your fingerprints.”
She turned and stepped out the front door, leaving Mark behind with the only innocent soul in the house. No affair, no deception, no comfort could fill the emptiness left behind.
Ella hadn’t ruined him. She simply revealed what he had already shattered — and left karma to do the rest.
***
written by Magdalena Deyna
