“Well, happy anniversary. Fifty is a respectable age. May God grant us all long life,” he handed me the package.
Inside there was anti-aging cosmetics.
— Meet Anna, my fiancée.
She’s my model.
Beautiful, isn’t she?
Anna batted her false eyelashes and looked at my friends as if she were in a wax museum. With caution and a hint of fear.
“We decided to come and congratulate you.
I see everything’s the same. The same friends, the same conversations.
It’s a shame nothing’s changed for you in three years.
And look at me, what I’ve accomplished. I go to the gym, stay in shape, and have a young woman by my side. And you’re still the same… Well, you get the idea.”
I put the glass on the table and smiled.
— Thank you for coming.
And thank you for the gift.
By the way, I also want to introduce you to someone.
My ex-husband was shocked when he saw my “special” guest; he quickly apologized and literally ran away from the party.
At that moment, a man approached us. Tall, confident, in a perfectly tailored suit.
Everyone in town knows him. A prominent businessman, an eligible bachelor, featured in the news.
His car costs as much as a fine house.
— Meet my fiancé.
I think you’ve heard of him. If I’m not mistaken, you work for his company.
I saw my ex’s face turn pale, then red. His hand, which he extended for a handshake, was visibly shaking.
My man smiled reservedly and shook his hand.
“Nice to meet you,” he said calmly, without unnecessary emotion.
“N-nice… to meet you… We have to go.
Sorry,” the ex muttered, avoiding my gaze.
Anna smiled sheepishly and hurried after him.
A minute later, the door closed. The music started playing again, the guests came to life, and someone quietly laughed.
I raised my glass and thought that age isn’t about a number.
It’s about who’s there for you when you need them.
